Rancor
by littlekitsune1
Summary: To go against "the enemy" was what they were told at birth, however ignorance and a chance meeting leave them at a crossroad. Hatred breeds more hatred. Friendship - young Akame and Kurojaki
1. A Day of Meetings

A/N: This little idea has been swimming around in my head for a while, and a friend's kind words have finally inspired me to do it, as a collaboration with another friend (She wrote all of Kurojaki's parts, whereas I wrote Akame). The reason? We don't like either of the characters. The way Yoshihiro Takahashi portrayed them and their struggle just seemed hollow to us, so we really wanted to test ourselves and see if we could change our own minds by giving them a little of the depth that we thought they were lacking. I hope we succeeded. Sorry in advance for there not being much of Kurojaki's POV in here, but we decided it was to be mostly Akame-themed. This is for our friend, Possk!

...

The humans were already gone from their clans' lives when he'd been born. His father claimed there were still some around when he'd been a pup, but he could never tell if the older dog was teasing him for his incessant questioning about them or not. History and trivia of their clan were not important, he'd always said; the only thing that was involved protecting what they'd left behind.

He didn't know what that was - yet - either, or why they had to go to such lengths against their enemy to defend it. Every time he asked, his father would only chide him about how curiosity and a soft heart would get him killed.

A shinobi didn't need his heart to obey his master.

"Akame," redwood colored eyes turned at the sound of his father's voice, "It's already dawn. If you are awake, why have you not started your morning exercises?"

"I wanted to watch the sunrise, chichi-ue."

The large Kishû padded forward silently, his formidable claws leaving nary a sound against the usually creaky floorboards. The mansion was hundreds of years old, after all, and Akame felt embarrassment creep over him as his own still-oversized paws caused the wood beneath them to groan in protest as he turned to face his father.

Shifting under his gaze, the pup continued, "… Unfortunately, it looks like Amaterasu Ōmikami isn't showing Her face today, with this fog."

Rikiseikō's brilliant white fur flashed in the faint morning light reflecting off the mist, as he sat beside his son to observe the heavy vapors that blanketed the surrounding forest.

"Indeed, your mother says we can expect rain tonight," he chuckled huskily, "It seems she's very upset she won't get to read the stars. There hasn't been a clear enough night in over a moon and you know how she gets when she hasn't forecasted her favorite boy's fortunes in a while. She's nervous."

Akame squirmed under the half-praise, knowing his father was poking fun at his mother's nervous habits to hide his own anxiety. His training hadn't been going as smoothly as anyone in the manor had hoped, as he was prone to distraction. Distractions meant slip-ups, and slip-ups meant death or worse - the enemy's success. As the mighty Rikiseikō's successor, the clan watched him with stern eyes and an unforgiving disposition, despite what his mother had prophesied when he'd been born amongst his siblings.

Frowning at the dark turn his thoughts had taken, Akame hopped daintily off the mansion's deck and trotted towards the woods. "I'm going to go do my exercises."

He could feel his father's dark eyes on him. "Plan on reaching this roof by tomorrow's sunrise. I'll be expecting to watch it from there."

Akame paused. His father's voice was not unkind, but there was no 'be safe,' or 'come back soon.' No, those sentiments were usually left to his mother, not to be uttered by the leader of their clan.

Confused by the sudden bitterness he could feel swimming in his heart against the dog behind him, Akame only nodded curtly before taking off at a swift run, that deep voice echoing in his head what he knew his father really meant to say.

_Don't disgrace the pride of Iga._

…

Running felt good, it calmed the raging storm that had started brewing in his little chest and loosened his muscles until they were as lithe as a cat's. The run felt so good in fact, that the next thing he knew he was in unfamiliar territory; the sights and smells of his family forest long gone.

Only when he stopped did he realize how out of breath he was, chest heaving and his breath wafting up in misty sparkles around his face in the cool morning air. His now-stationary feet finally began shuddering with fatigue as the dampness from the grass penetrated his plush coat and stung his pads with a harsh chill.

_'Where is this?'_

It smelled of pond scum and densely sodden wood. The scent of a not-too distant marsh caught his attention as well. Not in the mood to explore such potentially dangerous territory, the young Kishû turned around, preparing to follow his own footprints back the way he'd come.

A sound, high pitched and wailing without the wind drew his ears back towards the unfamiliar woods.

"… -won't come out…! My foot won't come out!"

This voice was coming from… above? Scanning the trees with his eyes, Akame finally caught sight of the owner of the sobs.

It was a puppy, probably only a little younger than himself, with fur like dusk and spots made of midnight. He'd only ever seen the clean white pelts of his kinsmen, and the tuft of dark brown fuzz rising from this cub's head was also utterly foreign to him.

He snapped out of his evaluation when the puppy once again let out a harsh wail and tried in vain to pull his foot free, caught betwixt a forked branch. How had he gotten up there?

"Hold on!" Akame bunched his muscles in preparation. Then, light as air, without a sound, leapt to the second lowest branch, leaning up towards the next set and scrabbling his back claws against the worn bark to get above the trembling pup.

Eyes glassy with tears looked up at him in trepidation, and Akame smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner before leaning down with more grace than he'd anticipated.

"Don't worry. I'll save you for sure," he promised gently.

Grasping the pup's scruff firmly between his teeth, Akame pulled while simultaneously pushing against one fork limb of the branch holding the dark dog's foot hostage.

A resounding 'snap' echoed throughout the area - momentarily confusing him - before he was in the air again, plummeting towards the ground. Almost reflexively, the Kishû twisted in mid-air, shielding the unfamiliar cub from the unforgiving earth as they landed; the puppy bouncing almost comically off his stomach while Akame recovered with the quickness of youth, springing back to his feet and giving a full body shake to rid himself of the dull ache.

"Are you okay?"

The puppy was examining him like he was some kind of alien, but snapped to attention at his question. However, he only nodded.

"What were you doing up there? It's dangerous. Are you out here by yourself?"

Seemingly satisfied that Akame wasn't going to grow another head and devour him, the puppy relaxed.

"And you?" he asked in a gruff voice that seemed completely at odds with his small appearance.

Akame only smiled nervously, realizing the young dog had effectively dodged his question. Two could play at that game, then...

"I'm Akame," he announced, straining himself to be friendly against the pup's guarded demeanor.

The other dog whose breed he still could not decipher stared him right in the eyes for a moment before cocking his head slightly. "Your real name, then?"

_'What's that supposed to mean?'_

Suddenly the younger animal burst out in giggles, plopping his rear end down and scooting himself over to sit next to Akame. The smile reached his eyes as he looked up at the white dog.

"Honest, aren't you? My father taught me never to reveal my real name to anyone outside the tribe."

Color blossomed on Akame's face. His father had mentioned that, too... But that was to hide his identity from the enemy. This child couldn't be one of them, so he didn't see the harm in his slip-up this time.

Cautiously, he asked, "What's yours?"

"I just told you I can't tell you," the puppy laughed, almost making Akame's eye twitch in annoyance at being poked fun of. Didn't he have enough to deal with? Hadn't he just saved this guy?

"But..."

Akame's ears pricked up.

"You can just call me Ikane," the pup beamed.

"An alias?"

"That's right."

Akame sighed. Ikane seemed amused, but his own patience was fading fast, still driven downwards by his father's words earlier. That's right, he had to practice getting up high enough to reach the mansion's roof...

"Listen-"

"But hey, that was awesome, how you leapt up into that tree so easily! I bet you could climb any tree in these woods, huh?"

Color dusted the Kishû's muzzle again, unused to receiving such praise. "I... guess."

"You know what? I'm trying to learn how to climb trees, too! Why don't we practice together?" Ikane was so bubbly that Akame was temporarily taken aback. Going from sobbing, to reserved, to _this_ in the span of ten minutes... He wasn't sure he could keep up. Still, he found himself relaxing in the younger dog's company, and his father's brusqueness slowly melting from his heart at the bright disposition.

"Sure... Let's do that."

…

Kurojaki's body felt rejuvenated as he ran back home. His training with Akame didn't leave a wear in his muscles and improved his mood, and as he passed the familiar landmarks of gnarled trees and damp ground he kept his ears and head up with confidence.

The few Kōga drinking from the water looked up at him and addressed him by his title of "ōji-sama". He nodded in response, still hurrying past them to the main camp, the prominent collection of rocks, to stop at the yawning entrance where a large black Kōga waited.

Kurojaki approached the older warrior with the polite lowering of his ears, his markings and face completely identical to the male's.

He received a curt nod in reply, the ears flicking in amusement or disapproval. Kurojaki seldom knew which.

"You were not present at your youngest brothers' training session," Yoō said bluntly.

It was disapproval, then. Kurojaki dipped his ears further down, giving a wag of his tail in apology.

"I'm sorry, chichi-ue. I didn't remember the time."

"And you left on your own without your uncles to watch you."

Kurojaki avoided eye contact to try pacifying his father more, hoping the voice would go to a monotone instead of becoming loud or sharp.

His submissive gestures didn't seem to work this time as Yoō continued berating him; an edge in his tone that threatened to rise.

"The eldest son of the Kōga Clan should never take a risk such as wandering off without a guard and without his weapon. The shame it would bring us that you would be so careless and waste your potential just for your own selfish curiosity would never be discarded."

Kurojaki knew that giving consistent apologies did not soothe his father's temper when it rose and kept his mouth shut. The usual praise he could see in the Kōga lord's eyes was not present. It always drove a deep feeling of guilt through him to go with the urges of a child and explore. His father was right: what if he _had _been attacked by the supposed enemy? Without weapons or warriors he would be easily eliminated.

"To take down the firstborn of a clan leader so easily," Yoō continued, "would reflect on the clan's incompetence. We would all be considered inexperienced children once the enemy dispatched you."

"I understand, chichi-ue," Kurojaki answered quietly.

Kurojaki never apologized or lied to regain his father's positive attention. He took to heart what the older Kōga gave criticism to and tried to avoid doing it again. His mother explained that mistakes were inexcusable, but his father disagreed and believed mistakes taught you valuable lessons for when you had to make choices. Between the two, making mistakes that Yoō took notice of was easier to live with.

"Should this happen again, you will be corrected," Yoō finished, although the temper in his eyes had cooled.

"Yes, chichi-ue."

"Now, your mother wishes to speak with you. She feels she has more to say on the matter."

Now Kurojaki's heart skipped a beat and he looked up at his father. Yoō gave no response back, leaving the younger Kōga to instead say goodbye and hurry off to his mother.

He felt a pang of irritation that - after his father already berated him - his mother would do the same. He understood the situation; his mother's severe intention of telling him his errors was not going to help him understand them any further.

Gatakari usually lay at the top of the outcrop, identical to the rocks in the night because of her Kōga fur. Kurojaki glanced at the typical spot she would lay and was not surprised to see a silhouette at the top. Because of its odd slender shape, he knew it was her, and began scrambling up the slope to go hop up the rocks.

Gatakari was standing this time he saw her, not lying down. The usual hardness of her expression had become a taciturn glare with a sharpness in her eyes Kurojaki did not like.

Approaching his mother, the young Kōga gave the same submissive signals he had given his father, but whereas Yoō had given the polite reply of a nod, Gatakari's eyes only narrowed.

"Your father reprimanded you," she stated.

"Yes, haha-ue," Kurojaki confirmed.

"He is merciful to you because of your age," Gatakari responded. "He feels this is where mistakes are meant to be made. However, mistakes and coddling are what make children the easiest of targets in an enemy ambush."

Kurojaki's ears kept from pulling back from her flat statement.

The female Kōga continued, pacing closer to her son.

"Luck is what keeps you from ending up dead from a mistake. Constantly acting like a fool and disobeying orders and protocol will not reward you with experience. You must follow your orders from your higher clan members and always your clan leader. A clan works only on loyalty and sacrifices. You never will have the privilege of leaving your clan or living after you have exposed yourself to dishonorable events.

"A lowly soldier would be severely punished for such a blunder - no doubt killed or forced to kill himself - but the heir to the clan is disheartening. Your father has worked hard to mold this clan into his own image for when we strike the enemy. His power will demand the fear of all clans who dare question the Kōga! He did not get to where he is through mistakes and daydreaming. If you are after a path to death or suicide, I implore you not to take it. The shame of having my own son, my firstborn son, disgrace his clan and father would mean for me to die and accept the last honorable thing I could instead of living with such a stain. Who knows how many of us it would take to sacrifice our own lives in atonement for your mistakes?"

The thought of his own family dying - of his mother killing herself - struck fear into Kurojaki's heart. His expression must have shown the remorse he felt, for Gatakari's tone softened to whatever minimal coldness it could.

"I do not use fear to make you obey me, son. That is only for masters to show to wavering servants or foes. I tell you this to remind you of your duties and your blood. A hundred would weep for if you are slain in battle, but a hundred would die in disgrace if you were to live as a fool."

"I did not realize my error brought such pain to the Kōga," Kurojaki said quietly. "Forgive me, haha-ue. I will not disappoint you again. I will die in battle happily if it would give you peace."

Gatakari never smiled but nodded when she was pleased. Her nod gave Kurojaki relief and the harsh black glimmer in her eyes faded to their normal lukewarm gaze.

"You are a forgivable son, and I will not punish you," she said. "But this is the last mistake I will ever accept. When you are to travel alone you will bring your sickle and you will never shirk or forget your objectives here. You are to be present at events for your kin and the higher soldiers. A leader is never late to an event he is needed at or else his clan will feel vulnerable to insecurity of his power and commitment to them."

"Yes, haha-ue. Thank you."

"Go. Speak to your brothers and exalt them. They trained well and your father and I spoke highly of them. As next leader you must also give them praise for when you lead them in the future."

Kurojaki nodded, his guilt mixing with relief, as he hopped back down the rocky slope down to the adjacent marshy patch of land where his brothers would be sleeping.

He felt Gatakari's eyes on him the whole way down until the lip of the outcrop hid him from view.

...

Crows were gathering and calling out against the setting sun by the time Akame finally limped back home. Ikane had proved to be a harsh drill buddy, but still, he'd found himself immensely enjoying the challenge and company. He smiled as he remembered their promise to meet again tomorrow. Ikane was anxious to know if Akame really could get to the roof of a house.

Still, he found himself dreading going home to where his father was. It hadn't always been this way between them; back when Akame was younger and his father went with him for his training sessions, they'd been close. However, nowadays, with the heavy burden of leadership looming nearer, he'd felt that bond slowly slipping away as his father's expectations turned more severe.

Looking up, he expected to see Rikiseikō's stern gaze awaiting him, but to his eternal relief it was his mother's soft red-brown orbs, so similar to his own. Yashikō was the clan's priestess; a Kishû with ginger colored ears and a blotch of the hazel fur darkening the tip of her sickled tail.

"Haha-ue!" his eyes met hers and she smiled, making his tail dance in the air happily as he forgot himself and ran up to her. She forgave his little indiscretion silently, bending down into a quick stretch of greeting in typical spitz fashion.

"Are you ready for hunting practice, Akame?"

To be honest, he'd forgotten all about it after meeting Ikane, but welcomed the chance to avoid his father's training questions. So he nodded enthusiastically, taking the sharpened spear of bamboo that she held in her jaws.

...

Name translations:

A/N: I always got the feeling that Akame was an honest, but hardened man. However, it was never explored how he may have gotten that way, and that's what the two of us wanted to convey here. He saw something in Gin and Ben that made him want to move past the hardness in his heart, which was what caused him to ultimately end the war. In this, we wanted to explore that that was his old self, and his own ideals before he became consumed by his ancestors' war. Gin and Ben also had a reason to fight, and knew very well what it was, where we feel Akame and Kurojaki did not. Akame was inspired to know that feeling and become the leader he always wanted to be.

And now that I'm done psychoanalyzing fictional dogs, the translation notes:

Rikiseikō = Divine White Light (扐垩光)

Yashikō = Nourished by the Gods (養神)

Ikane = Glinting Black Sickle (黟鎌)

Yoō = Night King (夜王)

Gatakari = Strict Authority (堅權)

Shinobi = Ninja specializing in stealth.

Chichi-ue = A formal, respectful word for father. I only used it because I couldn't think of an English equivalent.

Haha-ue = A formal, respectful word for mother. Likewise, I only used it because there is no suitable English equivalent.

Kishû = An ancient Japanese spitz dog bred for hunting medium-sized game. They are pure white, with yushoku, or "colored" Kishû being a very rare coloration of ginger.

Amaterasu Ōmikami = The Japanese Sun Goddess in Shinto religion.


	2. Yukimori and Jinbatsu

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's taking the time to read this! I just want you all to know that this entire fic is almost completed, and I am just breaking it up into chapters, now, (sorry if they're kinda short!) so you all have something to chew on while you wait for my inspiration to finish writing this damn thing. Enjoy!

...

"Remember to keep it steady. Don't get excited and forget to aim, precision is what will decide the outcome - whether it's in getting a meal or battle."

"Right."

The spear was big for him and it was hard to follow his mother's advice when it kept wobbling awkwardly in his hold, but he did not throw it until he'd gotten a proper handle and sized up the distance between himself and his target. It was only a small hibakari snake, slowly slithering up a tree, but made a hard enough target due to its size. Akame's heartbeat pounded in his ears with the adrenaline as he took aim... and fired, driving the spear right between the snake's eyes.

"I did it! I did it, haha-ue!" he cheered, before running over to remove the spear exuberantly, leaving the dead reptile's body to squirm on the ground repulsively. Not wanting to waste the creature's death, the young dog held it down and began to peel the flesh away. Snake was not his favorite, but it was nutritious and made a decent meal.

Yashikō looked pleased with his progress and graced him with another smile. "Now that you're taken care of, I suggest we find something bigger to bring home."

He chewed the snake silently, watching as his mother suddenly vanished into the trees, not even scattering any birds to warn the prey away. The dull 'shunk' of a spear piercing flesh and embedding itself in the rich earth rang out through the clearing, followed by a deer's dying shriek.

He hadn't even smelled that the creature was in the area yet; leave it to his mother to be so attuned to nature. He felt pride swell in his chest, before it deflated again. This meant they had to go back to the clan - and his father...

…

Rikiseikō's questions had not been as bad as he'd thought, as the older Kishû was preoccupied with hearing the scouts reports, turned in early due to the rain, and Akame snuck off after the fourth time being interrupted, to seek out his mother.

She was on the deck of the manor, not far from where he'd been sitting that morning, staring out at the heavy deluge. He silently came to sit beside her. Two young pups, a generation below him - Kirikaze and Jinnai, he believed their names were - were testing their fangs against a wooden beam of the manor, only to receive a gentle admonition from their own respective parents; nothing like the intense tongue-lashing and scruffing he would have gotten from his father. He watched the exchange wordlessly; enviously.

"Was there something you needed?" Yashikō's voice was soothing to his frayed heart, and he turned eyes, glistening with emotion, to her kind face.

"He isn't proud of me," the words were spoken so softly that he wasn't sure he'd said them aloud at all.

"Kirikaze and Jinnai are not the successors of Iga," she responded, as though reading his mind.

The indirect defense of his father was like a kick in the gut. He knew it was irrational to wish his mother to take his side all the time, but the betrayal still stung.

"My son, you must not invest so much thought into emotional affairs. No matter how a shinobi feels, he can't let it control him. There are more important things at stake."

"What's at stake, haha-ue?" He'd never asked her, always assuming it was his father's duty to tell him.

"Memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes. Documents of our clan's secret arts, formulas, and histories, passed down through hundreds of years."

Rage welled up in him, thinking of all the wars, his anxiety over this title, and his father's negligence, "Just for something like that-"

Her eyes flashed, "Those documents are our life! The very reason we were born! A shinobi is not so ignorant as to question his master's will, and you of all people would do well to remember that, Akame."

He was taken aback; his mother rarely spoke to him like that. Still, he could not help voicing his mind now that he'd started.

"But... our histories and arts are very similar, aren't they? The enemy's and ours? Wouldn't it be better to protect them together?"

Yashikō looked stunned, to say the least. Obviously no other ninja-dog had ever thought this way before, and suddenly he felt like more of an outcast; almost a traitor. "...Have I disappointed you, haha-ue?"

His mother's face softened, and she reached a paw forward to stroke him on the head. "A mother could never be disappointed in her son," she answered softly.

From the shadow of the doorway, Rikiseikō listened in silence.

...

Akame was awoken by something before dawn's light had even broken. When he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, he shifted against his brother's side, trying to return to slumber. Without warning, something warm and wet assaulted his ear, and the young dog snapped his head up to look into the laughing eyes of his father.

"It's time to get on that roof."

Cold anxiety wormed itself into his belly like a caterpillar, devouring his insides. Yet another chance to disappoint his father, it seemed.

"Yes..."

The older dog's lips curled in a slight smile. "Come. I'll help you."

_'What?' _

Wondering at his father's seeming change of heart, Akame followed him outside.

…

"Good, just like that!" Rikiseikō praised heartily, watching his son ascend the roof once again. "Now, try it once more. You can use the railing again, until your muscles get used to the strain."

Akame's breath came in icy puffs as he shoved off the fencing for the fifth time, sinking his front claws into the wooden roof as soon as he felt his feet hit it, to hoist the rest of his body up fluently. His father joined him, pushing his flank into the smaller one of his son in order to warm him up as they sat in the freezing silence of the morning. The sun was just beginning to peek Her rays out from behind the mountains, bathing the two dogs in cold light as the pinks and purples faded slowly from the sky.

Feeling good after the warm-up and his father's attention, Akame allowed himself to lean into the large Kishû and leech off his warmth and familiar scent. They stayed like that in silence, until it was time for the others to get up and both of them to get to work.

…

Flashing white like a part of the morning light itself, Akame sped through the murk and gloom of Ikane's home forest. They agreed to meet at the same tree as yesterday, and the Kishû followed the scent to the large timber, happy to find his new friend already waiting there.

Black as night, a direct contrast to his own silvery pelt, Ikane grinned before setting down the sickle he was carrying, and motioning silently towards the tree's boughs. Catching the meaning, Akame nodded after wondering at the item briefly, before leaping into the branches, Ikane following until they were both just a blur of movement, rising higher and higher; when they reached the top, by some wordless communication, they soared over to the next tree. Then the next, and the next, like a pair of mismatched flying squirrels. They both slipped a few times, but no one fell like yesterday's occasional blunders.

Akame must have become overconfident, because he soon felt his front feet miss their next mark altogether.

Panicking, he lashed out his neck like a striking snake, grasping the branch between his jaws and pitching his body forward, and soon found himself doing a full flip, only to land with all four feet on the earlier-missed branch. It was surely a fluke, but elicited an eruption of cheers from Ikane.

"That was awesome! Teach me to do that!"

Akame smiled shyly, nervously, before responding to the praise, "I-it was just an accident, honest. I did it without thinking."

Ikane's eyes widened exponentially. "That just makes it even more amazing! Hey, hey, let's practice that move today, all right? I know this grove of bamboo that would be perfect for flinging ourselves around on!" Already he was picturing what they might be able to do with the maneuver.

The thought clearly frightened Akame, but he didn't argue, only looking down at the forest floor from his perch.

"You know, I made it to the roof a few times, today," he changed the subject quietly.

"You did? Man, you're really something, aren't you, Akame?" Ikane beamed.

The Kishû blushed under the praise that he still wasn't used to, his lips worming their way into a full-on smile.

"Thanks." Then he frowned, his father's mixed signals weighing heavy on his mind. "I'm not so sure my father thinks so, though."

The black dog narrowed his eyes in thought. "Is he strict?"

Akame nodded.

"That's good! That means he thinks you can live up to that standard, doesn't it?" At the white canine's disbelieving stare, he continued, "My mother and father told me that they wouldn't waste time being hard on me if I didn't have the potential," he stated, as though it were obvious, and attempted to pitch himself forward around the branch like Akame had, only succeeding in almost falling.

He looked up a little sheepishly. "So... You should be proud to have such a high place among your tribe. My parents almost wouldn't forgive me for going alone and into danger without at least my sickle at the ready."

Akame did not feel proud at all. What was spurning Ikane on, to work that much harder the more his parents pushed him? All that weight just made him want to buckle, not lift it. He wanted the simple pleasures of being a kid, like Kirikaze and Jinnai were allowed. Was it asking too much, after all?

"They made you carry a weapon with you?" Akame said to try and distract himself. He thought the sickle odd but simple, and wondered how effective it could be in a real battle.

Ikane's ears went flat for a moment and he found his words carefully with a tone of embarrassment.

"It's foolish for the heir of the clan to go out of territory at this age. Father and mother explained to me how my mistakes could bring the whole clan to a shame that only suicide could accept."

Akame's expression must have shown his shock and Ikane gave a little laugh.

"It's true, isn't it? Father told me that a clan leader reflects the state of his clan. Running out into the wild without anything but my head in the clouds would show our enemy that the tribe is weak and foolish."

"You don't feel pressured by that?" Akame asked quietly. "Knowing your clan would... do something like that if you made a mistake?"

Ikane gave a noncommittal shrug. He seemed confused with not being able to mimic his friend's concern at the situation.

"Mother said that mistakes are not what we need to gain experience. Father said differently, but mother is more honest than him. She doesn't like to make me think like the lower soldiers and coddle me."

The black dog's posture straightened when he added pridefully, "I know I was chosen to be given the responsibility of the tribe. How could I feel disappointment in that? If my parents didn't care for me they wouldn't have gotten so angry at my carelessness. I can't be the best if I don't learn how to be."

Akame still held that heavy expression as he looked over Ikane's casual features.

Same age, same responsibilities, completely different mentalities. How could such an ultimatum like avoiding mistakes to keep your clan from killing themselves make anyone feel invigorated?

Seeing his friend's crestfallen appearance, Ikane lifted a hind leg to scratch himself nervously, not well adept at this emotional stuff. Parents raised you to continue on the next generation; that's just the way it was.

"Hey, let's go practice that move," he evaded carefully.

Akame started as he was jolted out of his reverie. "Y-yeah..."

…

The bamboo grove was not as large as he'd expected, and Akame briefly contemplated asking Ikane just what they could accomplish with it, but thought better of it; he didn't want the dog to think he was trying to back out. He noticed some of the fronds were marred by teeth marks and wondered if his friend often used these stalks as biting practice.

_'I should bring some back for Kirikaze and Jinnai,' _he thought good-naturedly, before black fur invaded his vision and Ikane was scampering towards the grove.

"Right here! Try using that move to get from that stalk to the other!" he gestured excitedly with his paw, and Akame followed the motions, not feeling one iota of the confidence his friend was exuding.

"I told you it was just an accident," the Kishû insisted, but Ikane was having none of it, watching with twinkling dark eyes as the white dog heaved a sigh and padded over, hesitating a moment before launching himself at a midway point of the bamboo's pedicel and latching on with his teeth.

Twisting his body lithely around the stalk, Akame flung himself by pushing off with his feet once he'd gained the speed and momentum he felt necessary, hurtling towards his destination, his jaws clamping down on the goal... Except he bit down too hard and lost his momentum, sliding down the stalk painfully by his teeth, ripping hollow grooves in the firm shaft until he reached the ground.

Ikane's eyes widened as he rushed to his friend's side, "Are your teeth okay?"

Valiantly holding back tears, Akame tested his jaw weakly, moving it around for signs of strain. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good! Then we can keep trying!"

Akame stifled a groan.

…

When Akame got back home, he was sore all over and had only one incident of success under his belt. Ikane had succeeded two and a half times, and seemed sure that they'd both master it in no time.

_When we master it, we'll give it a name_, he'd stated with conviction, making Akame smile a little at the memory.

Approaching the manor, he found his father waiting, much to his chagrin. However, standing behind him were the two twins whose names he couldn't remember at the moment, which was new. He approached warily, wondering if he was in some sort of trouble, now.

A flick of the ears was all the greeting Rikiseikō gave his son, but the two behind him wagged their tails and stretched in welcome.

"Akame, I'm sure you know Jinbatsu and Yukimori. I've decided you isolating yourself in the woods every day may not be the best thing for you, so I'm assigning these two to be your mentors for a few days."

Akame's eyes widened in alarm, thinking of Ikane, and when he spoke, it was a squeak, "Wh-what?"

"Are you not lonely, training by yourself? These two will accompany you. They are fine soldiers, and will be able to teach you much."

Backed into a corner, with no way out but to tell his disapproving father about his meetings with Ikane, Akame only nodded, looking down. "Yes, chichi-ue."

Dipping his head in a nod of approval, Rikiseikō turned and headed back to the manor. The two older dogs watched him go, before turning their attention back to Akame.

The one with deep gold eyes was the first to speak, smiling gently, "I'm Yukimori, and this is my brother-"

"Jinbatsu! Don't worry, we don't bite hard," interrupted the one with eyes as dark brown as a boar's pelt, one said eye closing briefly in a wink. "But hey, we're all friends, here. No honorifics for us. Do you mind if we just call you 'Akame?'"

Shaking his head carefully, Akame was a little taken aback, never having had one of the Iga treat him or speak to him like an everyday dog. But it was not an unpleasant feeling by any means. It felt a little like being with Ikane, only he didn't have to hide this encounter from the prying eyes of his clan. Slowly, he felt himself relax under their kind gazes.

"Your father wants us to train you," Yukimori started.

"But there's no reason we can't make it fun," Jinbatsu finished for him, with a wag of his tail.

Shyly, with an air of the insecurity he'd built up under the clan's scrutiny, Akame smiled.

"That sounds nice..."

…

Panting, but with his muscles now limber and loose from the workout, Akame was feeling good under the constant praise of his new tutors.

So unlike the others of his clan, Jinbatsu and Yukimori used their upbeat attitudes to give positive encouragement, and their humor to defuse his self-consciousness at his shortcomings.

"Okay, it looks like you're pretty good with the basics," the golden-eyed brother commented happily. "Enough that I can tell you've been practicing prett hard on your own."

"Good thing, too!" Jinbatsu exclaimed, "I've been eager to teach you some of my advanced stuff!" He shook himself like a preening bird and pulled an impulsive backflip just to emphasize his point. Yukimori rolled his eyes good-naturedly and Akame giggled a little.

"So on that note... Let's practice keeping your balance in trees," Yukimori stated

Akame nodded. That didn't sound too hard, at least.

"... Upside down."

"Eh?"

Jinbatsu approached, to push his flank against the younger dogs' affectionately; reassuringly.

"It's the first step to getting the Raikaken down," he elaborated, "The signature move of the Iga clan."

Akame knew of the move, though he'd never seen it performed. It took two tries to find his voice.

"So soon?"

The brothers laughed, rich and amiable. "We wouldn't even mention it if we didn't think you were ready," Yukimori said, running his tongue over his lips in amusement. "But don't worry, we'll build up slowly."

Jinbatsu nodded enthusiastically, before gesturing to a low-hanging branch. "We'll start there, so if you take a tumble, it won't hurt."

And Akame did indeed tumble - countless times. But the twins assured him he was doing better than they had at his age, which encouraged him more than they would probably ever know. He was not the chief's son, here, but a mere student doing his best. A child, allowed to make mistakes.

Finally, by the end of the day, Akame had a vague idea of how to hook his hind legs around the branch so that he wouldn't fall. Unfortunately, the strain left his limbs quivering to stay in position, and he was taking a spill from fatigue more often than sheer clumsiness.

"Don't worry," Yukimori assured him, "Your muscles will build up in no time, and then you'll learn how to relax them easily. Once you stop growing in about six months, you'll find yourself having a much easier time with endurance."

Nodding his assent, Jinbatsu approached to smooth his tongue over the young Kishû and get out the twigs and matted clumps of fur. "You did great for your first day," he brought his paw up to gently tousle the hair on his head, "See you tomorrow, squirt."

Touching his now-messed head almost reverently, Akame watched with a small smile as the two brothers turned to go back towards the manor.

"See you..." he said softly, with a new air of happiness.

...

A/N: Awww, Rikiseikō does care.

Translation notes:

Jinbatsu = Swift Retribution (迅罰)

Yukimori = Benevolent Defender (徳守)


	3. Training Days

A/N: Enjoy!

...

Akame snuck out before dawn's first light, his muscles protesting the lack of a few extra hours' sleep as he rushed to the usual tree in Ikane's home territory. If he was going to be gone for a while, he had to let his friend know, didn't he?

Sucking in a breath of cool air, Akame let it out slowly, before springing up into the treetops in a few fluid bounds. Once at the top, he sucked in another deep breath, before releasing it in a deep, solid howl. Focusing his mind, he projected his message into the notes, rising and falling in pitch with the complex communication.

_Something's happened - I will be back in a few days._

Sighing, he leapt down from the leafless boughs, hoping his message had reached the other dog's ears. Ears flicking around with the sounds of the pre-dawn life, he headed back home to get ready for training with Jinbatsu and Yukimori.

…

"Okay, today we're going to practice some Tenkan techniques. With your current size, these will be vital if you happen across a situation where you have to fight at such a young age."

Akame nodded diligently, watching as the two older dogs squared off against each other.

"Now if an opponent tries to strike you with their paw, you can do something like this..."

Jinbatsu suddenly rushed his brother, practically a blur, and yet Akame knew both were slowing down considerably so that he could observe. Claws flexed menacingly, the brown-eyed male brought his forelimb out in a downward, Yokomenuchi strike, right towards Yukimori's eyes. His brother reacted quick as lightning, lunging forward - much to Akame's confusion - and bringing a paw up to protect his face and stop the descent, then snapping forward to grab the throat of his partner between his jaws, turning in one fluid motion to use Jinbatsu's own momentum against him, sending the slightly bigger dog careening to the side for only a moment; but it was long enough for any counter-attack Yukimori would have seen fit to administer had it been an enemy.

Akame's tail wagged, completely fixated. Yukimori smiled and winked at his brother, who was busy shaking himself off to rid his pelt of the dust his propulsion had kicked up, and probably to rid himself of the embarrassment of being on the receiving end, as well.

"Now, when you get bigger, you'll be able to use your fangs, speed and limbs more effectively, to go on the offensive, but this is always a good thing to have in your list of options, no matter how old you are," Yukimori stated. "There are a couple of different ways to do this, and I'm sure you'll come up with the style that suits you best. Let's practice for a while."

…

It took awhile to get the speed and reflexes down, but Akame's mentors praised him for being a fast learner, with a natural affinity for conditioned circumstances. He found it easier to feint and catch his sparring buddies off-guard or to leap onto their backs - when he could pull enough of a poker face - than to pull off the complex moves, but he made an effort to practice them, too. Once his muscles were too sore to dodge and weave anymore, they moved on to stealth.

"Our white pelts don't do us much justice in this forest outside of winter, so - when stealth is involved - you may have to get a little... dirty."

Jinbatsu nodded, "A brown Iga is a hidden Iga. And luckily, it just rained!"

Yukimori eyed a couple of murky brown puddles. "We have our own man-made mud that we keep behind the manor, as I'm sure you know, but you won't always have access to that, so it's important to improvise.

"Your mother has already taught you to hunt using spears, yes? Well you won't always have one of those, either, and even if you do, it won't help you sneak up on them or an enemy. So now we'll practice how to conceal yourself and move without being detected."

Akame shuffled. This was the part he was usually bad at. Seeming to sense this, Jinbatsu laughed and made a comment about how he was never very good at stealth as an impulsive young puppy, always tripping over his oversized paws.

"Now," Yukimori, ever the calm teacher started, "I'm sure you know the basics: staying downwind and making sure you know how to pinpoint prey by scent and sound alone. We're just going to build on those."

Jinbatsu trotted past the two of them to head towards a mud puddle. "But first, we get dirty! Not only does this help hide our white fur, but it helps mask our scent as well. Go on."

As a puppy, Akame didn't particularly mind getting dirty, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd have to ask someone to help clean him off, lest the dry cracking muck make movement difficult. Even if it was for training, he didn't particularly look forward to asking his mother for such help. Still, he approached the puddle dutifully and decided he may as well have fun with this part.

Fervently, he rolled around repeatedly in the dark gloop. Not one to be outdone, Jinbatsu joined him, and the two had a temporary game of blowing bubbles in the slop before Yukimori clearing his throat good-naturedly had the young warrior sheepishly crawling out, covered head to toe in the dark substance.

Jinbatsu was shameless, emerging as a lump of sienna clay and not bothering to keep his distance from either of them when he shook himself off, the excess mud flying every which way and splattering both Akame and his brother.

Akame giggled, but Yukimori looked decidedly less amused, prompting the young Kishû to move further away before doing the same.

"You probably noticed we brought some herbs that give off a potent smell."

Akame crinkled his nose and nodded, eyes fixating on the offending greenery.

"These grow everywhere in our forest, and they're great for hiding your scent even further. Want to try?"

It was phrased like a question, but he knew this was also a vital part of the lesson, and so he approached the plants and sprawled his body over them, rubbing against them until his scent could no longer even reach his own nose. Yukimori nodded his approval.

"Now, we'll start with smaller prey, since that's still the main staple of your diet. Keep in mind that hunting and sneaking up on an enemy use much the same principles, so you'll want to keep these tricks in mind no matter how old you get."

Akame nodded silently.

"You probably haven't caught many martens yet, since they like to hang out in trees when they aren't hunting, but they mostly rely on sight, so the camouflage will help you. Let's focus on rabbits and voles. Do you know the main difference?"

The young dog thought about it for a minute. "Rabbits rely mostly on sound."

To his eternal relief, both brothers nodded and smiled.

"That's right," Yukimori continued, "and voles rely on vibrations in the ground. As long as you know what you're doing, you can exploit both weaknesses the same way."

Jibatsu took over, "What you've gotta do is learn to keep your weight in your upper legs, so that your paws make as little impact on the ground as possible. Also make sure you're always on the lookout for any sticks, leaves, and general things you might step on. Once you've mastered this way of stepping, you'll be both silent and un-detectable through the ground."

Akame sighed, he had a feeling this was going to be a long training session.

…

Akame had lost four rabbits and ten voles by the time he had his first success. It was a young hare, and maybe a little dumb, since it hadn't seemed to detect him at all, despite his still-clumsiness. But after getting close enough, he'd been able to rush it, pin it down, and deliver a swift bite to the neck, receiving hearty praise from his mentors for the efficiency with which he dispatched it.

Relishing in his victory, he was about to dig in, before remembering himself and snapping his mouth shut to look at his two teachers. Jinbatsu just laughed, while Yukimori gave a reserved, but warm nod of approval. The first bite was moist, rich with the wild taste, even if it was a little bit on the lean side. He couldn't bring himself to care. Rabbit had never tasted so good.

…

"The most common poisons are non-lethal, and come from things like the pieris japonica leaves, and chinaberry fruit, to name just a few. These are good for incapacitating the enemy," Yukimori started.

"But this is an enemy that's usually better off dead," his brother interrupted soberly, "so we tend to practice the more lethal ones, nowadays. We keep dried blowfish and cane toad under the floorboards of the mansion, along with some taxus cuspidata and various fruit seeds. These are simple, but effective, once you learn how to extract the toxins and apply them."

It seemed odd to hear his kind mentors speak of even the enemy in such a way, and his comfort level with them prompted him to ask, "Why are they better off dead?"

The brothers exchanged a dark look before answering, "We've seen them on patrols, eating the hearts of our dead like it was the most natural thing in the world. Even the hearts of women and children."

Akame considered this for a moment. It did indeed sound revolting and, dare he say, evil. The young Kishû felt a shudder go through him, putting his fur on end. Just what were these great enemies?

"That's something you've seen? Not something my father told you?"

Jinbatsu and Yukimori looked at each other again before they both nodded.

"I see..."

"What's this about?" Yukimori's kind gold eyes reflected concern.

Akame shuffled uncomfortably, afraid of speaking ill about their leader, even in front of these two brothers he was fast calling 'friends.'

Sensing his reluctance, Jinbatsu spoke up, "Hey, I told you we're all friends here. We wouldn't tell anyone you don't want us to."

Belly unconsciously going low to the ground, he relented, "I think my father and everyone in the clan knows I won't be a good leader. I'm not living up to their expectations in my training. That's the reason he assigned you two to mentor me, isn't it? I'm disappointing everyone."

The brothers were silent, silently imploring him to finish venting.

"I miss being a kid. Since I hit six months, father hasn't said one good thing about my progress. I know the leader isn't supposed to show such weakness in front of his clan... I know that, but... Still, I miss him and how he used to be proud of me, as his son - not his replacement," he confessed quietly. "Does that make me weak?"

To his eternal surprise, a warm tongue smoothed over the wedge of his ear, bringing with it the relief of knowing he could confide in these two dogs without being judged.

"What's not to be proud of? You're a fine young warrior, and the chief may be many things - but blind is not one of them," Jinbatsu spoke up.

Yukimori pressed a friendly flank against Akame's, "There are many kinds of strength. As many as there are people in the world; and you are definitely strong, Akame. Never forget that, even if you become an adult."

At that moment, Akame was nearly full to bursting with love for these two individuals, who had taken him under their wing in his time of need. Not because his father had ordered them - no, he could never order them to care about him like this - but because they listened and understood his plight.

"I thought my father might be lying about the enemy to make me hateful," he confessed. "I never want to know the same hatred is reflected in my eyes as I see in his, sometimes. I don't believe that's how a leader should be."

"And how do you believe a leader should be?" Yukimori seemed intrigued.

Akame shuffled his feet under the question, not sure how to respond on the spot. What _did _make a good leader?

"That's what I want to think about from now on."

…

Kurojaki had grown tired of waiting for Akame. He was grateful for the warning howl, which he had clearly heard, but he was not sure when the 'few days' would be up and had checked their usual location nearly every morning to see if he could catch the familiar scent of his friend.

Each time Akame's scent was stale, and Kurojaki realized he hadn't even come over to give brief markings. Deciding not to do so himself, the Kōga left to go hunting.

He used the excuse of wanting to hunt to keep his parents from assuming otherwise to his fascination will leaving around the same time each day. It took an hour to catch two rabbits and a squirrel, but it was believable evidence to his long hours away, and awkwardly carrying all the prey and sickle in his mouth, he returned home.

Yoō and Gatakari seemed less rigid at their eldest's desire to explore when he would bring back food and greeted him with tail flicks and brief eye contact. Kurojaki returned their signals and happily dropped his catches to where the younger pups could see and eat it.

Kurojaki's newest brothers and sisters scrambled to tear into the meats, giving happy tail wags and yips in thanks. Kurojaki gave a mild smile and watched them as the brothers resumed their play-fighting and the sisters went to listening to an elder female explaining herbs and medicines.

Yoō came to sit beside his son, who copied his gesture politely. Neither spoke as the Kōga leader watched his youngest sons wrestle and roll across the damp ground.

"You are learning to use the sickle well," Yoô stated.

Kurojaki's blade was red with animal blood and he replied, "Thank you, chichi-ue."

"It is harder to use on an enemy the same size as yourself."

Kurojaki's ears flicked to the bigger dog and he looked at him questioningly.

Yoō's eyes were not warm, but they carried pride in them and made Kurojaki's heart flutter with exuberance.

"Your training against other soldiers shall begin today," the bigger Kōga said.

The excitement in Kurojaki's body bubbled and threatened to make him jump to his feet. Yet the young Kōga remained sitting and instead nodded with respect.

"I will make you proud, chichi-ue."

...

Fighting with the sickle had only been done on trees or cuttable objects, so when Kurojaki held the handle in his teeth and stared at his opponent across the makeshift arena he felt a jolt of anxiety.

The young Kōga across from him, an apprentice he did not know the name of, held a dagger in his teeth. The sickle was only for the leader, and daggers were only needed when close combat demanded it. This was to test how either Kōga could use their weapons when necessary.

Kurojaki wasn't very fond of having to mingle with his own age as he believed he was smarter and stronger than the common apprentices, but realizing the repercussions of actually hitting someone with the sickle frightened him.

Yoō stood between them, with several Kōga circling around the field to give enough space for both apprentices. The leader looked from pup to pup as he gave out the rules.

"This is not a competition, but whoever draws blood first will be rewarded, as will whoever can make enough successful blocks. This is for you to understand what resistance and movements you must use to swing, block, and hit the target. Aim for any part of the body and head but keep your swings restrained enough to not cause fatal damage."

Kurojaki's lungs exhaled hot breath with a shaky reflex as he felt time begin to slow down. His heart thudded in his throat as his father began to leave between them.

_Dunk and swing, _Kurojaki thought nervously. _Let him strike first, then dunk and swing. His weapon lacks an angle on the blade. I'll hit him first._

"Begin," Yoō barked.

Immediately the other Kōga rushed in and forced Kurojaki's reflexes to kick in and have him dodge. It was so sudden the soon-to-be leader stumbled and awkwardly flipped around to face the slightly larger dog.

Angry at tripping, Kurojaki growled and lunged forward to take a swing. The other apprentice easily evaded and rolled to the side to get at Kurojaki's exposed flank.

With a desperate tug of his neck and legs Kurojaki turned in the air to guard himself, facing the dog again and blocking the dagger with his sickle in pure coincidence rather than thought. The blades grated thinly in the air, hurting Kurojaki's ears as he glared spitefully at the other Kōga.

The other dog had a confident look in his blazing eyes that fueled the smaller dog's adrenaline. Kurojaki could not let his parents see him lose in a pathetic training match. He could not be outdone by a lowly soldier. He was chosen to be the best and he was _not _going to allow this bastard to take his place!

Shoving with all of his might, Kurojaki forced the other dog to back up, trying to strike but being blocked. Over and over he swung the sickle, the ringing of blade against blade only making him angrier.

The shouts around him were becoming louder and frenzied, the Kōga army cheering him and his opponent on.

Kurojaki let the applause for the rival build more rage inside his stomach when he snarled at the other Kōga. No one should be cheering for him; they had no reason to! Kurojaki was the only one who deserved the cries and howling. He was born to become the face of the Kōga and they instead were shouting for the lowly apprentice to win!

One of the greatest weaknesses for Kurojaki was losing. He never liked to lose in play-fighting and he never liked to let someone else win. But now was vital for his image; now was vital to show he would not have a single defeat under his name at his start of becoming a warrior.

The other dog's lips curled into a sneer of triumph around the dagger when his strength began to push Kurojaki back, and the smaller canine gave a growl deep within his chest. Without a moment's consideration he pushed forward and knocked his head into the others'.

He felt a nauseating impact of skull against skull and tried to regain his senses. The other Kōga had swayed and staggered in pain, dropping his dagger from the identical pain in his teeth both he and Kurojaki had felt from the headbutt.

Hoping he could aim against the dizzying waves of pain, Kurojaki dripped his sickle tight in his teeth and sliced forward to the rewarding sensation of soft impact.

The other dog gave a cry and Kurojaki saw a flash of red in the black fur. He felt satisfaction at seeing so much blood spurt from the laceration until his boiling hatred died down and he realized what he had done.

The cut was very deep. It was a desperate lesion from neck to shoulder and had gone further under the skin than was possible for a restrained attack.

The Kōga around him gave off shock and random cheers and Kurojaki turned to his father to have an excuse to look away from the unconscious apprentice. He could smell the blood on his blade and resisted the heave of his stomach.

Yoō looked surprised and Gatakari even showed a bright awe in her eyes. The cheering was growing louder and the Kōga male gave a smile Kurojaki had never expected at this moment.

"You wouldn't let him make a mistake," Gatakari said with a tone of pride, looking knowingly into her son's eyes.

Kurojaki looked from parent to parent, to the Kōga around him, confused by their acclamation.

_I didn't mean to swing so hard, _is what he would have said. But his mother almost looked warmly at him and his father stood proud and tall amidst the others.

Kurojaki still felt sick, but understood he had involuntarily made a statement of his teachings, and dropped his sickle to smile at his parents and bow his head.

"An opponent will not be given mercy by the Kōga," he proclaimed. He hoped the tremble in his voice had not been heard as the army around him howled with victory.

Kurojaki timidly accepted it until he felt the impulse to bask in it, and did so as the body was dragged away, the parents being given great commendation from their son's honorable death against Yoō's eldest.

Kurojaki chose to see it as they did and drank in the repletion on his parents' faces.

It was all he had wanted, and he promised to himself that he would get it until the day he died.

…

The days in the brothers' company passed quickly, but in that short time, Akame was happier than he'd ever been. He missed Ikane, but felt positive the other pup had received his message and they would resume their meetings once he was allowed to train by himself again.

"What are you thinking about?" Yukimori's voice penetrated his thoughts, and he realized sheepishly that he had been daydreaming over his lesson.

"The woods," he answered without thinking, then turned panicked eyes up towards the amused ones of his tutor.

"We have been working rather hard lately. Why don't you go out and practice your exercises?"

"But-"

"It's okay, squirt. I don't think the chief would complain; you're still working, after all."

Nodding gratefully, Akame nuzzled his face briefly into the neck fur of both dogs before darting off towards the forest, his heart light and soaring.

…

Ikane wasn't at the usual tree, and disappointment clouded his thoughts for a second, before remembering the bamboo grove. He hurried there as quick as his oversized paws could take him, intent on sharing his good mood with his friend.

The rustling of stalks and whistling of air made it clear what he was doing before Akame could even see him. Ikane lithely twisted around the bamboo until firing himself towards the next one, before repeating the process and launching at the next stalk. Akame watched in amazement.

Whether Ikane noticed him or was merely finished with his exercise, he descended and Akame loped happily up to him. Ikane turned glittering black eyes his way, confident smile in place.

"I mastered it, so you'll have no complaints if I name it, right?"

Stopping short, Akame actually laughed, surprising his companion. At the questioning stare, he merely shook his head, waving him off. Talk about a one-track mind.

"Of course, Ikane," he grinned, "It's yours to name."

The dark pup's eyes lit up with excitement, "Great! I've been thinking since you've been gone, and I want to call it Hiraihodō!"

"How do you read it?"

Ikane beamed before answering, "Boomerang recoil!"

Akame laughed again. It wasn't the most refined of names, but attack names rarely were. At least this one was simple and to the point; not like the Raikaken, which left one wondering as to its origins. He snickered to himself a little at his clans' expense.

Smiling impishly, still in a good mood, Akame impulsively lunged forward, catlike in posture, and tackled his friend to the ground while he was off-guard.

Ikane yelped before pulling his ears back, "Wh-what the-? What are you doing?!"

The white dog giggled a little, looking into Ikane's bewildered eyes, veiled in suspicion.

"I like it, Ikane."

The black pup pushed slightly, and Akame let him up. He still looked guarded, but Akame could tell he was merely shaken by surprise, and perhaps a bit irked.

"Good," Ikane started, slowly, "Then you can practice until you master it, too."

"Yes, sir," Akame replied good-naturedly.

...

A/N: The techniques and poisons mentioned in this chapter are all very real, so don't try this at home, kids!

(Lost in) translation notes:

Tenkan = Unarmed/hand-to-hand techniques, involving turning your opponent to expose their weak side.

Yokomenuchi = An open-handed strike, cutting horizontally or diagonally downward towards the face or neck.

Hiraihodō = Boomerang Recoil (飛来反動)


	4. Memento Mori

A/N: The secong half of this chapter was fairly difficult to write, so I apologise in advance for any parts that seem a little flat.

Enjoy!

...

Akame didn't arrive home until after dark. He briefly wondered why he didn't receive a scolding upon arrival, until he saw the clamor at the mansion's entrance, his father barking out orders as soon as the scouts gave their frantic reports. Carefully he approached, but nobody seemed to notice him, and he managed to pick up a few words here and there - "enemy," "Kōga," and "our borders."

Were they being attacked? It didn't happen very often, perhaps only one or two other times in his lifetime, and the enemy had never gotten far enough for him to lay eyes on them. He'd seen his family march to battle about as many times, and they were always thwarted as well.

Glinting sharply against the night, Rikiseikō's white pelt was ominous and harsh as he surveyed the young warriors lining up before him, the elders gathering protectively around the manor.

"Listen!" his father's voice boomed over the ruckus of preparation, "What's important is protecting this manor and its contents from those despicable Kōga! We will fight to the last to defend it, and if anyone dies - they die with honor! Long live the Iga!"

Then the soldiers that had been right in front of him, lining up with their heads bowed to his father were gone, a silent breath of wind the only proof they'd been there at all.

Rikiseikō's piercing dark eyes landed on him then, and Akame shrunk under the gaze. However the older warrior only gestured towards the mansion with a stiff jerk of his head. "Get inside."

The young dog obeyed, still shaken up by the intensity of his father's conviction evident in the earlier speech. Trembling, he huddled inside with the women and children; all of them could only wait it out and hope their friends and family came back.

…

It was well after midnight when Akame was awakened by soft voices outside. When had he fallen asleep? Shaking off the remnants of drowsiness, he opened the door and peered outside, along with several females who were still awake. Rikiseikō stood stoically as the warriors gave their report on how they'd routed the enemy's forces.

"The brothers, Jinbatsu and Yukimori, died brave deaths to defeat many Kōgas, chief. We might have lost many more if not for their honorable deeds."

Akame's breath caught violently in his throat at the mention of those two names. Names that had been kind to him in his hour of need. Names that meant more to him than he'd realized, until they were uttered in that sentence.

With a small noise, he shoved his way past the door and his father, to fix horrified eyes on the two bodies that were being dragged back to the mansion.

Their forms were horribly mangled, limbs sticking out at awkward angles; eyes rolled back into their heads with their tongues lolling out disturbingly.

It was the first time Akame had seen a dead body, and the reality crashed through him painfully. Whatever he'd expected them to look like, this was far from it. Maybe he'd anticipated them looking peaceful and noble, after his father's speech - anything but the bruised, bloody, indecipherable mess of stillness he couldn't tear his eyes away from, now.

The rage came first, surging through his veins with an intensity that almost sent him staggering. There was no honor in this! The state they'd been reduced to churned his stomach, and he turned livid, tearful eyes to his father, who only nodded at the report, assuring everyone that they would rest in peace, knowing that they'd kept the documents safe.

_Documents! _His brain revolted against the very foolishness. These two dogs had been his friends, and what had documents done for any of them?

His parents' words, passed down through so many months of his life, echoed hollowly in his mind.

_This is what we were born for. A shinobi does not need his heart to obey his master._

Mind-crushing sorrow stamped on the fuse he'd lit within his own heart, pulled down on it until the tears could not help but follow, dripping vainly onto the unforgiving ground below.

Nobody outwardly protested his actions when he shoved through the gathering of warriors, but he saw their disapproving frowns, and he didn't even want to see the look he knew would be on his father's face. Still, he couldn't bring himself to care as he approached the bodies of his friends.

Why hadn't he spoken up before the fight? Told them that his father didn't know what he was talking about; that they didn't have to die to win his approval?

A wail built in his chest, and before he even knew he'd moved, he found himself embracing the corpses and sobbing like a man gone mad, willing them to just wake up and go back to their normal kind and funny selves. He heard a dull rumble of reproach mill forward from the crowd, but paid it no mind.

Suddenly, strong limbs were around his trembling form, embracing him, and pulling him into a broad chest. Looking up, Rikiseikō's dark piercing orbs bore into his. Akame fought against the hold for a sparse few moments, before he lost all strength and sobbed helplessly into the fur of his father. The cries rose louder from him, unbidden, and his father pushed him tighter to his chest with every keen and wail. When he could no longer breathe, he tried once again to pull away, but the male would not let him.

It was then that he realized that his father was not comforting him, but merely stifling him. He didn't want the embarrassment of his people seeing the great leaders' own child sobbing like a lost pup, after all.

Jaws, frightening in their strength, came around his scruff with less gentleness than even he'd expected, and dragged him - still wailing out his sorrows and horror at his father's continued actions of impassiveness - into the manor. The other women and children had awoken and emerged at the ruckus he'd created. A hush fell over the Igas as the door slammed shut behind them.

Akame wiped his eyes frantically with the back of his oversized paws as he was set down in the now-empty ninja mansion. Rikiseikō was silent, that stoic gaze resting on him, but somewhere in the depths of the cool, unsympathetic eyes, Akame convinced himself that he saw what he'd always dreaded: disappointment.

The torture continued for what seemed like a small eternity, before his father finally spoke, "You'll understand, someday."

All the rage, all the heartbreak and anxiety he'd suffered at his father's hands up until this point welled forth, darkening his mahogany eyes to the almost-black of the older man he hated - and loved, with all his heart.

"I'll never understand," he spat, the words like venomous ash in his mouth, "I never want to understand you, chichi-ue!"

The male's eyes hardened, as though he expected this, and it made his heart swell with a discomfort he didn't want to place or understand.

"If I were to die in battle, too, would you be happy? Is that the only way to make you proud of me, chichi-ue?!"

Brief hurt laced the older Kishû's features, before it was masked behind the sober features of a leader, etched in stone once again. Akame couldn't stomach looking at it any more, and ran out onto the veranda, shoving violently past anyone in his way on his path to the woods. Kirikaze and Jinnai, always together, made to follow him happily, too young to understand, but were gently restrained by Yashikō and their own mothers.

Running until he reached _that _tree, Akame curled up, alone and grieving, into a fitful sleep.

…

A white flank pressed against his, familiar in its warmth and scent, and Akame looked up into the smiling face of one of his mentors.

"Yukimori...?" his voice was cracked and dry from crying. The golden-eyed dog nodded.

Soothing heat pressed into his other flank and he turned to find Jinbatsu lying beside him as well. Tears welled up in his eyes and the older dogs gently licked them away, almost in unison.

"Can't you rest?"

The brothers looked at each other sadly, giving him all the answer he needed. Akame sucked in a shuddering breath, before voicing his next question; the question he dreaded asking:

"Is it because of my father?"

Their gazes were anguished, but full of love as they'd always been.

"He lied to us," their mouths did not move, but both spoke at the same time, their voices echoing through the misty dreamscape.

"Lies fester in the soul with a tangible poison, even in the spirit world."

Akame knew this was only a nightmare. Yukimori and Jinbatsu would never say anything against his father, or admit it to him if they had these thoughts. They would be loyal even after death, and had believed in their cause until the end. He knew his mind was playing tricks based on his own beliefs... Still, the tears fell like a river he could not stop.

"We never wanted to die, Akame."

"I know..." he wept brokenly, openly, "And I wanted to stay with you forever."

Twin tongues cleaned his tears again, before the warmth was gone and he felt himself fading back into reality; the rough, unforgiving bark of the branch beneath him filling his senses with more and more clarity.

The feeling caused him to panic.

"No! No, let me stay with you!" he keened, careening after them helplessly like a lost child, "I want to stay with you!"

They each gave him a lingering heartsick look, before turning and starting down an invisible path, each step shrouding them further in mist until he could barely see them as he struggled in vain to follow.

Hours seemed to pass as he fought consciousness. He could no longer see even the tips of their sickled tails, but still he ran on, coughing in anguish when his chest started to burn beyond his body's limits, and his lolling tongue refused to be cooled. With every heartbeat his sorrow and anger grew. With every footfall he left a small piece of himself behind.

…

"Hey!"

Ikane had smelled Akame and spotted him in the tree - curled tightly and jerking restlessly - and jumped up to investigate. His ears flagged when he realized the Kishû was moving in his sleep.

Akame twitched like a thousand needles were prickling through his body. His face was scrunched up in apprehension and he exhaled in strangled whines, limbs spasming as they tried to run - or attack whatever he thought he was seeing.

"... Akame?" Ikane bent close to his friend, concern on his black features. "Akame? Akame, are you all right?"

When it was apparent that Akame would not wake, Ikane shook his shoulder with a paw.

"Akame! Wake up!"

The Kōga gave the body a firm slap and was rewarded with a yelp and flailing legs. With a roll and gasp Akame stared up at Ikane with dilated pupils that showed incredible fear or distress. Dark lines of water streaked down his cheeks to hint that the Kishû had been crying earlier in his sleep.

"Akame, are you all right?" Ikane asked again. It was obvious from the smell and bristled fur that his friend was anguished.

Pupils finally contracting slightly as recognition slowly showed on his face, the Kishû's voice was strained and cracked when he responded.

"I-Ikane?"

At the other dog's hesitant nod, tears welled up in his mahogany eyes again and his white pelt seemed to fluff out around his wiry form, making him suddenly look much older than he was.

"I don't know... what to do," he admitted quietly, knowing it was sudden, "Where to go. My clan did something... horrible... Something I don't want to be a part of ever again. My father..." Akame's eyes darkened and dilated again as he engaged in dark thoughts all his own.

"My father and clan took something precious from me."

A tear fell, though he didn't seem to realize; iridescent against a pale cheek.

"Jinbatsu and Yukimori were my friends and yet they had to die to show some warped loyalty!" the timbre of his voice rose until it was nearly a shout.

Ikane's ears dipped lower as the Kishû went further into his vent, his own blood rushing with vicarious anger at knowing Akame's own father had done something terrible. Something terrible enough to kill his friends.

"What did your father do exactly, Akame?" he asked in a hush. He felt the air grow heavy as his mood from earlier quickly became somber.

Waxen claws flexed, flushing with blood as they extended to knead the dirt. Akame's cheek ticked with suppressed emotion and his eyes burnished until they positively gleamed with hatred.

"That man strokes his ego with convincing younger generations to pledge loyalty to some great cause, but it's a sham... What we live and die for is nothing but an illusion our ancestors placed on our shoulders while they bred us like cattle. My father feeds the lie, knowing we'll die for it. No... knowing we'll die for _him_. To please him."

It was all too much, and several more tears squeezed past his pinched eyelids.

"I hate him... I hate him! I wish he'd just disappear!"

Ikane hesitated, feeling awkward, before licking at Akame's cheeks to remove the tears. He had never felt a drive to ever do that for someone else, mainly because he had never seen anyone else really cry, but the emotions in Akame's tone were strangled and heated and made the Kōga feel an instinct to do something. To help. To make Akame smile.

"He sounds cruel," Ikane said, still stiff after giving an affectionate gesture. "You don't deserve that, Akame. He sounds like a real tyrant. Any clan run by someone so heartless can't be anything but as heartless as him."

Rebelling against the warmth that flooded his heart at the younger male's gesture, the Kishû tried not to think about how Yukimori and Jinbatsu had soothed him in similar ways in his dream. Hanging on to the hatred was all he could do to not fall apart at the seams.

"They are," Akame seethed, recalling their indifferent stares; the whispering.

"Everyone acts like it's justifiable as long as it's father's will! Like their deaths should mean nothing to those affected. Even their own parents defer to father's judgement over the lives of their sons! Am I wrong for feeling sad when a friend dies, Ikane?" The eyes that stared up at the black dog were pleading, still moist with tears.

Ikane felt more uncomfortable at being given the direct question and tried searching for more words to use to help soothe the Kishû.

Not finding it the right time to tell Akame that he had been the first friend he ever had, Ikane instead answered, "No, without friendship there's no one to avenge and no drive to do what you need to. Without my clan's support I wouldn't feel the way I do for them. I can't imagine you having to lead those... _savages_."

Ikane licked at Akame's ear, too embarrassed to remove his tears again, giving a pricking of his own ears in an encouraging manner.

"What you believe is what everyone should believe, Akame. Dying for honor is a blessing we all can achieve, but dying for one selfish lord's delusional beliefs is despicable. Don't believe anything they tell you; you'll make a better leader than a thousand fathers if you keep that drive for compassion to your clan."

Akame's aura was a palpable thing when it tingled with fury, and as Ikane's words sunk in, it was obvious when he took them to heart; the rampant emotion that had filled him seconds prior seeming like less of a necessity in the wake of his friend's compassion. Eyes softening and brightening back to the warm redwood color the other dog was familiar with, the Kishû's chest expanded in a heavy sigh as he sat up.

Hesitating only a moment, Akame leaned his shoulder into Ikane's affectionately.

"Thank you," he stated softly. "I'm not sure how to face them anymore, but you're right - I _will _lead them someday - and I've got to. Maybe if I go back, Kirikaze and Jinnai will grow up knowing how to love their clan, and not dying to protect petty ideals in its name."

Rising to wobbly feet, the white dog faced the direction of the grove, his voice tired but with more pep than it held previously, "Will you lend me your sickle? I want to bring those two back some bamboo to start testing their fangs on."

Ikane smiled, not giving much thought to his parents' prior anger at him being bare of his weapon. With his own temper simmering from what Akame had had to go through, he wasn't going to go home immediately, and cheerfully gave the Kishû his sickle.

"Have fun, Akame," the young Kōga said with a wag in his tail. "And remember what I told you. Don't worry; we'll find a way to make things right, just give it some patience. My parents always say a cool head creates the best strategies."

Akame gave a comforted nod and smile, sickle in his teeth, and with a flash of white he hopped down the tree and towards his own territory.

Ikane watched silently, the wag in his tail dying off. Keeping his sight on the white streak through the forest floor, he waited until he knew he would be undetected from a distance. As soon as Akame's sight and scent had vanished, the dark canine kept to the trees to follow like a shadow.

...

A/N: So there you have it; the first big death scene. I wanted a kind of irony, here, with Jinbatsu and Yukimori reflecting the deaths of Hayato and his brother, in episode 12 of Ginga Nagareboshi Gin. With everyone's indifference to their deaths, we were left to assume that Akame was preaching the same things as his father does in this fic, and ultimately becomes him, despite what he believes as a child. Of course, this is all humble speculation - I apologise to all you hardcore Akame fans out there.


	5. Descent

A/N: Two things before starting this chapter (which I'm sorry took so long!). One is that I am aware "Maya" is a fan-made name, but for all intents and purposes, it works well enough and I decided to use it so the majority of fans would know who I was talking about. The dog in question is never mentioned to be important in either the manga or anime, to my knowledge, but I decided to give him this role as he has the most speaking lines besides Kurojaki, and I didn't want to make yet another OC.

The other is that I know in Yoshihiro Takahashi's short backstory on the Igas, "Ganin," the documents are revealed to be in a small tube for easy transport. I chose not to go with this, as I always pictured there being a _lot_ of documents, that wouldn't fit in some tiny tube. I found the idea of a pile of old papers wrapped in linen cloth more… majestic?

Anyway, I've rambled long enough. On with the chapter!

…

Retrieving two small parts of bamboo had proved easy with the aid of Ikane's weapon. However, unable to carry all three objects in his mouth, and really not feeling up to explaining to his parents where he had come across a sickle like that, Akame had decided to bury it near the grove for next time he met with the younger dog, leaving his scent over the spot.

The air was stale and silent around the manor, but Kirikaze and Jinnai were basking in the sun merrily. Opening their eyes when he approached, the two friends gave excited yips and wriggled their lower bodies in greeting. Shushing them affectionately so as not to draw attention to himself, Akame lowered his head to offer the bamboo. Jinnai immediately snapped a piece up, snarling playfully when Kirikaze grabbed the other end and tugged, trying to take it for himself.

Shushing them again, Akame pulled them apart and dropped the other piece, which Kirikaze greedily snatched and immediately began mouthing. He laid down with them, not surprised when he was quickly accosted by puppy breath in his ears and around his muzzle as little tongues licked at it, squirming bodies heaving around on top of him as the two wrestled and tousled.

He smiled, Kirikaze and Jinnai somehow easing his distress with their simple pleasures in life. They were both warm from the sun's rays, and it soothed his muscles; aching from spending the night in a tree. Their baby smell mixed with sunshine relaxed him and reminded him of the happier days of his own youth..

'_As long as these two grow up knowing something other than this warped delusion, that's enough for me... I won't let the younger generations suffer ever again.'_

His repose was short-lasting, though, as twin pairs of paws moved into his vision, and he looked up into the firm eyes of his parents.

...

Kurojaki realized Akame's territory was not as far as he would have estimated. When the Kishû had stopped to give bamboo to much littler ones the Kōga realized he would have to wait for further movement for quite a while. He lay down in the brush, still at a distance to where he wouldn't be easily detected, and pricked his ears forward to hear his companion speak softly to the pups.

Lying still for so long was not as tiresome as it had been in his younger months. Kurojaki felt his muscles tensing uncomfortably but kept his senses keen. The urge to relax and lie down comfortably was pushed to the corner of his mind as he waited to see the clan leader.

The minutes passed slowly until Kurojaki's impatience finally dissolved. As if to reward him for his reconnaissance, two grown dogs approached Akame, the female's eyes a direct match to his color and the male's features bearing resemblance. By the way Akame glanced up to them Kurojaki knew these were his parents, and that that male was his father.

He was not sure if he saw fear, hatred, guilt, or all three in Akame's eyes, but it only rekindled his ambition to fix the Kishû's life. He waited, shoulders aching in his crouch, to see what would happen before he left.

…

"You are a fool, going off alone in the dead of night," his father's voice was as monotonous as always, but still held the sting of a sword.

Akame kept his features blank, putting up a mask that said Rikiseikō's words did not affect him, when inside he was still reeling from his earlier actions and words. He looked to his mother and saw similar reproach in her eyes, making his belly and tail lower unconsciously, despite his best efforts.

"Haha-ue," he greeted as stoically as possible, keeping his eyes on the ground, "Chichi-ue."

"The enemy had just been at our doorstep, and you go running off to the Gods know where for some childish tantrum. Akame, you are to be the leader of this clan! Cast away your petty ideals and focus on our mission!" he had rarely seen his father so angry, and his body language became increasingly defeated as the timbre of Rikiseikō's voice rose; short and sharp like a fox's bark.

Yashikō did not defend him, and once again he felt the pain of betrayal and wondered if he was the one in the wrong, after all.

Swallowing the sour taste it left in his mouth, Akame cleared his throat before replying in the same monotonous tone, "I apologize, chichi-ue; haha-ue. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," the older male snapped, turning brusquely back towards the manor, Yashikō giving Akame one last look that he couldn't decipher, before following him in.

His claws dug into the soil as he fought tears again, and even Kirikaze and Jinnai were still against him. White hot silence surrounded the Kishû as he stood, causing the two pups to tumble off him. They recovered quickly, going back to gnawing on their bamboo pieces while Akame moved to find a quiet spot alone.

Curling up under a shady tree, the young dog thought about Ikane's words again. He'd told Yukimori and Jinbatsu that he would think about what it took to be a good leader, and Ikane had assured him that compassion for his fellow clanmates was on the right track. But what was he supposed to feel for the enemy? Hatred was what led his father to throw young lives away in the first place, so was he to give up and let the enemy win? After the sacrifices his clan had been built on to keep these all-important documents safe? It didn't make sense either way, and once again the young male cursed his fated role as future chief of the Iga.

His ears twitched against the tickling breeze, and Akame caught the sounds of Kirikaze and Jinnai playing in front of the mansion. One thing was for sure: he was not letting them meet the same fate as Yukimori and Jinbatsu. He would give them the childhood he and his siblings never had, even if the whole clan was against him.

He didn't know how long he dozed, before a shadow fell over him, instinctively waking him. He shrank down again when he saw his father before him, carefully masking his features to hide it.

"Come. I have something you need to see."

...

Once Akame had fallen to sleep, Kurojaki was off.

He moved like a shadow, hardly brushing against leaves or trees, leaving nothing but a whisper behind him as he hurried back to his own territory.

What if Akame's father beat him? What if he was trying to force ideas into his head? His own father had told him meaningless violence outside of training taught you nothing but the incorrect way of handling your hate. Kurojaki didn't want to think of what Akame could become under such treatment and that spurred him on, giving him strength in his limbs as he went from the dense forest to damp undergrowth and humid air.

How could Kurojaki convince his father to initiate an attack on Akame's clan? And how could Kurojaki race back there to warn Akame? He didn't want him to be in the battle, and he couldn't tell his father about his contact with him. For all he knew Akame's clan _was _the enemy to the Kōga.

If it was, it only gave him more ambition to carry out his duty for Akame.

Racing through the common soldiers, ignoring their calls of confusion, Kurojaki raced to the mound of boulders to find Yoō speaking to Gatakari. They spotted his rampant movements and turned to him as he skidded to a halt, lungs begging for air.

"Kurojaki?" Gatakari asked. "Where is your sickle?"

"Haha-ue, chichi-ue," Kurojaki panted. "The enemy - I've found the enemy's territory!"

Yoō's eyes grew bright with shock and a hint of dubiousness. "Kurojaki, what are - ?"

"Please, chichi-ue, there is no time! I believe they are planning an attack!" Kurojaki did not tell a whole lie; he suspected the clan leader must be scheming something. It was a sillier idea to think he wasn't.

Gatakari's ears went flat but she looked at her mate. It was atypical of her to not speak her mind on things like this.

Yoō searched over Kurojaki's face for a lie, but the young Kōga's genuine desperation gave him the perfect demeanor.

"You were trying to find their territory all on your own?" the leader asked gruffly.

"No, chichi-ue, I swear I wasn't. I wanted to find a new area to train in and caught their scent. By the bamboo grove, further ahead, passing a clearing of trees where the bark grows darker. That's where I smelled them and saw a human den... a - a den made of wood in the far distance and could smell the others' scent coming from around it."

"The manor," Gatakari muttered with a cold intake of breath.

Yoō's ears pricked forward in more shock, but through the confusion of the sudden event Kurojaki could see a fragment of pride further in his gaze and his paws pooled with warmth.

"That would explain Tsuyonori and Raijû's absence," said Maya, the second-in-command, who had heard Kurojaki's distress.

"If they are there," Yoō said, "then we will strike an attack to avenge them. I don't see the enemy placing any mercy on them."

"So you'll attack, chichi-ue?" Kurojaki asked desperately.

Yoō's eyes looked away absently as his mind worked. Maya and Gatakari's ears swiveled in his direction for an answer.

"If they do have those two, then they haven't made it known to try baiting us, so I don't believe they are planning on us coming to them. If we attack now we may catch them unaware, whether or not they have the scouts."

"It's been a while since we've had a good battle with the bastards," Maya coaxed.

"I believe you'll have the element of surprise against them," Gatakari added.

Kurojaki looked pleadingly up at his father, heart beating in his throat. The large Kōga gave a look to his mate and Maya and headed for the top of the boulders. Maya understood and gave out a howl to summon the clan together, where they clustered around the gorge as Yoō began to speak.

"My eldest son has detected the enemy's territory and their manor," he called out.

Kurojaki's pride buzzed when the Kōga all cheered as one at the discovery, but he kept his ears at a modest angle.

Yoō continued, "As you all know, our scouts Raijû and Tsuyonori have gone missing, and our hearts grieve for their loss if they have been taken by enemy ambush, but in our grief we shall honor them and charge into the weakest point the enemy cannot block us from: their manor."

More howls erupted, throaty and victorious as if the battle had already been won.

"And inside their manor," Yoō snarled, "are _their documents_!"

"Take them!"

"Rip them from their grasp!"

"They're our right!"

The clan all shouted as one being, one heart and mind and soul, clawing at the ground and slavering with fervor. Kurojaki was caught in the contagion, his hatred for Akame's clan fueled, his blood hot with the ambition to bring justice to his friend's family and give victory to his own. His heartbeat, as loud and strong as a war drum, thrummed through his ears, and in his passion he howled deep from within his chest to give praise to his clan's own glory. He would be honored to lead such a clan to further triumph when he was leader.

"We have no time for preparation," Yoō shouted. "And we need no time. We feel no mercy and we need no mercy. We will shed blood from the throats of our enemies and shed our own, for our own honor, not for their satisfaction. Because no matter their beliefs, ours are pure, and they will understand this in a time that is too late for atonement. Their hearts will be torn from their flesh and brought back here for all to know that we will cleanse this forest of their vile ways and we _will _prove our superiority when we have completed our hold of the documents!"

Kurojaki roared for his father, roared for his clan, roared for the drive that needed to be released. He wanted their blood and he wanted them to see the true way of a shinobi. Through all of their twisted beliefs they could find no other way of repentance other than death.

"Maya!" Yoō called down from the boulders. "You shall lead the first half! Go now and clear an area for us to successfully infiltrate the manor! Let no one tear you down!"

Maya gave a bark of pure bloodlust and charged forward, his usual squad following like a red sea, their cries for war becoming silent once they left the camp. Kurojaki watched them with fevered impatience until looking back up at his father, who was descending the gorge.

"The rest of you shall follow me. Maya will make sure to clear us a path to the manor. I will make my way inside and I will succeed in retrieving the documents. That manor and all who live in it will burn in there before they burn in Hell!"

The remaining squad snarled and shook with fury and pride, and Kurojaki almost began to run with them as they headed after Maya's troop, before his father held out a restraining leg.

"Kurojaki, you are still not of age for this battle. I cannot risk your safety if I am to die tonight."

"Chichi-ue..." Kurojaki felt a great weight in his heart, and a foolishness at already knowing he could not go to battle. His blind rage and rousing for the attack had made him forget about Akame, and he tried to contain the shaking in his limbs when he knew his teeth would not shed any blood. He still needed to retrieve his sickle, and going to battle without it was foolish enough for him to almost blush in sheer embarrassment.

"You must protect the women and children while I am gone," Yoō said with a tone that demanded full attention. "You must be the leader until I return. If I do not, know everything your mother and I have taught you and keep it to heart. Never let your thoughts stray from the mission or your clan."

Kurojaki nodded, his eyes watering from the knowledge he could lose his father and that he was blessed to have such a one. Yoō understood his son's loss of words and only nodded back, before turning to follow his squad. Kurojaki turned, a sharp realization hitting him, before he called out, "Chichi-ue!"

Yoō stopped and turned to him.

"My sickle!" Kurojaki shouted. "I have left my sickle near my training area. I had forgotten to pick it up when I found their scent! I must retrieve it to defend the clan!"

"Go quickly!" Yoō called out, and ran out of the camp, disappearing from sight.

"I will guard the clan while you are gone," Gatakari said at Kurojaki's shoulder. "Go now! Do not delay!"

Kurojaki didn't give any hesitation and ignored the ache in his muscles as he headed back the way he came, avoiding the squads as he saw them from his right, further ahead.

He had to beat them to the territory.

He had to get Akame to safety.

...

The mansion was full to bursting as Akame was led in, the clamor almost hurting his ears. The crowd parted as Rikiseikō and he moved toward the center of the room, where several soldiers were holding two reddish-brown dogs. They looked young; lean and wiry, and snarling defiantly. The tuft of hair going down their necks reminded him of something he couldn't place through his fascination.

His father addressed him, "These two scouts were found in our borders after the attack. With your heart the way it is now, I do not think you understand the repercussions of softness. Death is a natural part of our struggle, and the enemy _will _kill you, Akame. The only way for us to protect the documents is to kill them, first."

Akame felt an ominous premonition sweep over him, as he saw the Igas - even children - watching the two red dogs somberly.

"Chichi-ue-"

The large warrior nodded his head to the Igas holding the two males, "Do it."

"Stop-"

He ran forward, but quicker than a clap of lightning, one of the dogs lay on the floor, convulsing and expelling blood from his throat and mouth with every labored breath. Akame stopped dead, eyes filled with the sight of red life essence coating the mansion floor.

"Tsuyonori!" the other dog screeched, surging forward with surprising strength while his captors were focused on the steadily stilling body. Though it ripped great chunks of flesh from his body, the red canine pulled free and stood over the body protectively, madness burning in his eyes. However, he was badly outnumbered, and Akame felt rooted to the floor as he watched him get torn into over and over, each time getting up as though blessed by the God of Death, itself. The cycle continued endlessly, until the Iga decided they'd had enough of their game and pinned him down all at once. Fur, flesh and entrails came away in their mouths, not even seeing fit to give him a death by weapon.

His body shook, tail between his legs as he was forced to watch, unable to tear his eyes away as the mutinous snarls of the enemy slowly turned to screams of agony as his spirit gave in and broke. Then silence. Rikiseikō came up to stand beside him again, stoic as ever.

"I do not do this because I hate you, my son," he started, quietly. "I do it because I love you. Death is a part of what we were born for, and I was shown that fact by my father in this very same way, days after my mother and siblings were slaughtered by the very enemy you see before you. I do not wish the same fate to befall you, Akame."

The Iga slowly dispersed, revealing the hideous scene to Akame's unprepared eyes, and all at once flashes of Jinbatsu and Yukimori's corpses flooded his mind. They did not look much different, and much to his horror, he found his father's words striking a chord within him. Would the enemy do the same thing to him were he to be captured? To his family? To Kirikaze or Jinnai?

He felt himself grow sick and heaved, spilling his stomach's contents onto the floor. His father said nothing, but Akame could not see his face, nor the faces of his kinsmen through the sudden swirling of the room. Blood scent clung to the roof of his mouth, mixing with the vomit, and he heaved again, stomach clenching painfully as it tried to offer up something to dispel.

Could he ever bring himself to tear into another dog like he'd just seen? The very thought frightened and repulsed him, but if his father was correct, he would have to in order to survive. For everyone he cared about to survive. The blood scent ran down his throat when he swallowed; hot and heavy.

Heedless of the others, he turned and ran, not stopping until he was back under the quiet tree, where he dry-heaved a few more times. Kirikaze and Jinnai came over after a few moments, apparently following his scent - bamboo in mouths. Squeaking and yipping, one crawled onto his back while the other curled against his tummy to chew his frond. He wondered if they could sense his distress, because they were unusually quiet and gentle.

Protectiveness rose in him and he licked at Kirikaze's ear, letting their baby scent wash away the lingering odors of blood and vomit. Pudgy legs pushed and jostled at his skin, but he let them; it distracted from the images of mangled bodies that kept flashing before his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel as though a large part of himself would be buried with the enemy dogs, tonight.

…

Kirikaze and Jinnai were playing tug-of-war with their stalks of bamboo when Akame smelled a familiar scent that he'd never expected to ever get whiff of at his home. Signifying with his ears and tail for them to stay - if they were even paying attention - he stood and sought out the source.

Ikane's voice called out to him in a hushed tone before he even found his friend, himself.

"What..." he said in wonder, as he caught sight of the dog, crouching in a tree, "Ikane?"

A little of the horror he'd felt from the day's events melted away upon seeing the black-patterned face of his companion, and his tail and posture straightened a little. The young canine had obviously positioned himself upwind of Akame to draw his attention, and the Kishû leapt up before any Igas could hear them.

He didn't want to talk about what had happened, and his mind was still a blur, but he couldn't help allowing himself to lean into the other dog, grateful he was there, anyway. He just hoped the scent of blood wasn't still clinging to him. He didn't even wonder what Ikane was doing there, through the trauma his young mind had endured moments prior.

"Akame," Ikane panted, the whites of his eyes showing at the edges. "I- my sickle. I really need it back. Is it back at the tree?"

It took a moment for what his friend said to sink in, but Akame snapped to attention when it did. "No..." he started, concerned, "I buried it at the bamboo grove. I need to get away, anyway, so I'll show you."

Leaping down, Akame started towards Ikane's territory, knowing his father was not likely to look for him and he didn't have hunting practice with his mother - with the recent border scare, she was needed at the manor. He heard a yip from behind him as Kirikaze and Jinnai ran after him, their chubby undeveloped legs causing them to stumble a few times as they tried to close the distance.

"No," he barked, not unkindly. "I'll be right back, so go back to the mansion."

They both cocked their heads and pricked their ears at the order, but only wagged their tails.

"Now," he forced some more strength into his voice, leaving them with no doubt that he meant business.

Tails slowing, both puppies whined forlornly before slinking back the way they'd come. Nodding in assent, Akame turned back towards the anxious Kōga.

"Let's go quickly, I don't want anyone noticing my absence."

Ikane nodded, relief washing over his features, as he sprinted ahead, looking back nervously like he didn't expect Akame to lead him.

Akame gave him an odd look but went ahead with the Kōga close to his heels. The distance would have to be quick; Ikane seemed like he wanted to pick up the pace but kept silent.

Not a word was spoken as the two raced back to the bamboo grove.

...

Yoō waited in the grass, paws unaccustomed to the much firmer soil. He and his troop's pelts melded with the shadows as the night continued in its youth. The trees whispered gently, the air smelled sweet with flowers instead of damp undergrowth. Such a territory would be fine to conquer in the future, when the Iga were completely wiped from the country.

Sickle clenched in his teeth, the Kōga leader's ears were pricked forward. The night was silent; tranquil. For now he let it be so, knowing it would have to be cut short in just a few moments.

A body slunk close to his, paws completely undetectable on the ground.

"When are we to know of a signal, my Lord?" the soldier whispered.

Yoō continued to gaze through the grass ahead as he answered, "We will be able to hear the noises of a scuffle on floorboards, or the rise of anger from the enemy. Maya will give us a howl and we will meet them."

"What are we to do once we reach their manor, my Lord?"

"The priority is to get inside and grab the documents. Killing the enemy if they are in the way of that is also essential, but do not distract yourself with a fight. That is Maya's objective; we will be the ones to break inside the manor, oust the Iga, and make sure we are successful in retrieving the documents and retreating. If our scouts are in there, they will also be saved, but only if we have the leverage to do so."

The soldier at his flank nodded, giving a sweep of his ears in additional confirmation.

"If they are in the way of the documents, we will have to leave them. There is no room for balancing any variables. If we do not have the time to take them with us then they will remain where they are."

"Understood, my Lord."

Yoō was confident that the scouts could be carried back to the camp with the numbers they had, but by habit and his past lessons he did not let his decision waver. This was a predicted victory; the Iga would be caught off-guard, and this was their best chance for reaching the documents. Two lives would not be lost in vain once the mission was complete, nor killing the equal amount of enemies lest the scouts should be dead.

There was only a slight pang in Yoō's heart, and it was for Kurojaki not being able to fight alongside him.

But that would have to wait for another day and another time when he knew his son had the full capability of being the leader when he died in battle.

Off in the far distance, as calculated, came the distinct sound of Maya's howl.

…

Rikiseikō pressed close to Yashikō as the chill from outside creeped in through the ancient wood. The dark clouds from earlier had opened up and started a heavy rainfall. Scouts retreated inside, shaking the deluge from their pelts - it was too dark and wet to see or smell anything, so their leader was lenient about such things.

He looked up when the two young pups scampered into the manor, dripping wet. He didn't truly expect Akame to be with them - there were plenty of places to keep dry if one knew where to look, but also didn't expect them to look worried, with the slightest foreign scent clinging to them.

The Kishû didn't have time to think on it as a sudden shift in the wind brought with it more of the same smell. Yashikō tensed beside him and a few of the Igas seemed to notice it as well, prompting the male to rush out into the downpour.

The dark chill pressed in around him. He could feel their presence even without seeing them, raising his hackles and causing his tail to stand rigid.

Scanning the trees, his eyes settled on dozens of glowing orbs. He felt his soldiers line in around him, and they pressed their flanks together to form a wall between the outside and the mansion. There were many escape routes; the women and children were likely safe by now, but the documents were what was important.

A drop of rain fell into his eye as he stared down the enemy, temporarily blinding him, and he blinked to clear it.

It was all the incentive his foes had been waiting for. Quicker than lightning the bushes surrounding the manor rustled with a flurry of movement and his troops were accosted by several reddish-brown blurs. The only clear thing were their slathering jaws that snarled and snapped.

Over-eager, two males rushed him at once, and a fang grazed above his eye, nearly taking it out if the other hadn't leapt at the same time and careened into his attacker.

The first blood of the battle mixed with rain, running into his eye and turning the battle scene red as it dribbled down his face. He belted out his order to the soldiers rallied around him.

"For the glory of the Iga!" they howled in unison.

…

Akame was puzzled by Ikane's continued silence as they ran through the rain, mostly sheltered by the thick trees. Surely his friend hadn't decided to be angry about lending him the sickle? The young Iga slowed to a stop, turning to look at the black dog, who almost slammed into him. He was alarmed to note Ikane's features hadn't softened from the intense white-edged stare, and stark eyebrows.

"Why are we stopping?" the other male asked urgently, looking around as though he expected something to happen.

"Ikane, why-"

A distant familiar war cry, barely audible over the pounding droplets, followed by howling and snarling reached his ears.

A sick realization sank in, and he found his feet carrying him back the way they'd come before he could even remember telling them to.

"That's my father's voice! Something's happening at the manor!"

"Akame, wait!" Ikane's voice barely registered in his ears.

The black dog started after him, but Akame had gained too much ground in his fervor. Screeching to a halt, Ikane panicked, torn between saving his friend and not being caught by any of his kinsmen that might be lurking around the area. Clenching his teeth until he tasted blood, the Kōga cried out in frustration and pain, before turning towards where his sickle was buried. He had to think of his clan, first...

…

Yashikō scanned her eyes over the women and children as they stopped in the woods, a considerable distance from the war taking place at their settlement. They looked scared, and were in need of leadership, but the documents would have to come first. She turned to go, but something stopped her – where was Akame?

Anxiety jolted through her, setting her hair on end as she surveyed the pups again. Again, her son did not catch her eye, and she rushed into the crowd, checking behind every dog.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" an approaching female asked, looking decidedly alarmed.

"Have you seen my eldest, Akame? He is not amongst his siblings!"

"No, ma'am, I have not seen him since he came back this morning. You don't think he-…"

Suddenly something flashed through Yashikō's mind – a phantom of a vision, and she knew, with startling clarity, that her son would not be found here. She whipped her head up to the clouds, darkened with the deluge, and her redwood-colored eyes widened at the single star she saw there. A star she was very familiar with – the star her oldest son had been born under. It was blood red.

'_Akame…!'_

She turned back the way they'd come, and ran.

The female looked to what had caused her lady to panic so, and frowned in puzzlement. The star gleamed a clean white hue.

…

"Iga Ninja Technique: Raikaken!"

The brown dog's cry was cut short as he squirmed against the attack, causing the vicious lacerations to dig deeper and puncture an artery. The cut bled out until the twitching stopped, but Rikiseikō didn't stop to make sure he was dead. He moved on to his next target, cutting into the young male's nose and crushing the nasal passages until they filled with blood that could not escape and leaving his opponent to stagger back with a choked whine.

He wasn't sure how many there were, but it seemed as if the entire Kōga clan was there. New soldiers popped up to replace as many as he killed, and he feared it wouldn't be long until they lost their advantage of keeping the fight outside the manor. He only hoped Yashikō had taken Akame and the documents to a safe location.

The whistling of wind against a blade was the only warning he had, before he ducked out of the way of the sickle, glinting deadly and black as his attacker's eyes in the night. Rolling away from the enemy and to his feet, Rikiseikō stared down the Kōga leader; the narrowing of his eyes the only outward sign of emotion.

Letting manic laughter ring throughout the area, Yoō stood firm in confidence.

"I believe this is our first meeting – chief of the Iga – and I can assure you, it will be our last."

Rikiseikō only watched; face as impassive as stone, as the dark warrior curled his lip in smugness and clenched the hilt of his sickle with his teeth until the material squeaked in protest. Then he was rushing forward, faster than the eye could take in.

The Kishû lord didn't so much as flinch until he sensed Yoō's proximity, then – true to his reflexes – the white male back-flipped so that the weapon whizzed against the fine hairs on his belly, sizzling through the air like the slice's power was alive.

Rikiseikō landed on his delicate, cat-like paws and ran for the stack of spears leaning against the manor. The Kōga snarled in anger and pursued him, closing the distance at a dangerous rate.

"What's wrong, master of the Iga? You cannot avoid me forever, and I will rend that hunk of wood you call a spear before it touches me!"

With an agile lurch of his neck, Yoō swung his blade. The clang of metal against metal rang out through the area as Rikiseikō twisted his body at the last minute to deflect the blow. The sound buzzed and tickled inside their ears while both warriors staggered back from the force. The black dog bared his teeth in malice.

Not fazed by the extreme alacrity, the white Iga leader held his ground and locked weapons with his dark rival. Staring into the ebony eyes, the wood of the spear groaned against the exertion as both males pushed forward.

As if the air crackled with electricity and burned them, they broke away, Rikiseikō pushing off the wall that confined his movements.

Shooting through the air like a white arrow, he landed a short ways away before pushing his claws into the soil and contorting his back muscles – straining his legs to swerve completely around, only to come face-to-face with Yoō's sneering eyes again.

They came together for a second time like an avalanche. Again and again they clashed, neither willing to yield an inch to their enemy.

The spear groaned and cracked under the prolonged pressure of the Kōga scythe, and Rikiseikō's face barely had time to register his shock before the thing splintered and he had to close his eyes to shield them from the flecks of wood. Larger wedges embedding themselves in his flesh.

However, he had no time to pay them any mind as Yoō lunged forward, ripping his sickle across the Iga's throat, barely missing the main artery.

Rikiseikō landed painfully a short distance away, and looked up to see the black dog advancing again.

…

The ruckus escalated to a roar in Akame's ears as he arrived on the scene, leaping into a nearby tree to remain hidden and observe the war below. He could hardly tell his kinsmen apart; their white pelts dyed red with blood, and the enemy's darkened to black with the same life essence.

His mind was instantly filled with worry for the welfare of any women and children that might be stuck in the manor – particularly Kirikaze, and Jinnai. He knew his mother could take care of his own siblings, but how were the other pups faring? There were ways out, and logic dictated that the females were far away by now, with their young. However, his heart still beat with concern, and that ultimately led him to creep silently through the trees to the back of the manor. The hidden door was open, and he slunk inside cautiously, where he breathed a sigh of relief. It was completely empty.

All of a sudden the young dog found himself pinned to the ground, a slathering shadow bearing down on him. Squirming proved futile, as the dog was full-grown and twice his size.

With a colossal heave, Akame tried to dislodge the Kōga; Jinbatsu and Yukimori's words echoing frantically in his mind. The endeavor gained him enough footing to flop onto his side, but left him dizzy with exertion. From this position he was better able to look into the face of his attacker, and was met with the livid eyes of a red male. Nothing discerned him from his ilk outside, but still this warrior carried a sense of domination in his aura that left Akame no doubt he was high in rank and skill. His eyes widened in fear.

"The chief's son, eh?" the dog spoke in a raspy voice, raised with arrogance at his find. "Come to snatch the documents from me?"

A wet snarl was the only apprise before a dagger flashed; closing in on his throat, quicker than he could apprehend the action. But then the pressure was gone, as a second shadow bowled into the first, almost invisible in the darkness of the mansion. The second phantom form moved into the thin sliver of moonlight and revealed a white face with chestnut ears and mahogany eyes.

"Haha-ue!"

She stood the male down, her countenance hard but for the cool fury with which her teeth clenched the spear she held in her jaws.

"Akame, get the documents out of here! This scum shall not live to bleed another Iga, much less lay his eyes on our scriptures!"

He took only a moment to stare at her before coming back to himself and instantly obeying the gravity in her voice. Scrabbling to his feet, the little Kishû hurtled towards the secret room he knew the papers to be in, pressing his paw onto the trick floorboard, which opened a panel in the wall.

Grunting, Maya swerved to move after him, but Yashikō twisted her upper body, heaving the spear in a wide arc that carved through the floor and narrowly missed cleaving the Kōga's head from his body had he not leapt away at the last second. He did not come away unscathed, however, and an angry red lesion appeared on his flesh, causing him to turn enraged eyes on the female.

Yashikō swung again, and this time Maya was forced to parry with his own dagger, the booming peals reverberating off the walls of the small room as they clashed over and over again.

The red dog snarled angrily as his dagger was knocked painfully from his grasp, the vibrations of metal on metal still ringing through his teeth and making his gums itch.

Glaring with hatred at the female bringing this humiliation down upon him, the right-hand-man leapt to avoid her next swing, his lips curving upward in triumph as he back-flipped in the air to gain some ground.

Yashikō's eyes narrowed as he flung something that had previously been attached to his claws at her. Several of them embedded themselves in the floor as she moved, and she looked down to see blowfish quills.

Not trained in combat, but in hunting, her reflexes were slow in reacting when he took advantage of her shock and closed the distance. She grunted in surprise when his eyes were suddenly leering dangerously into her own, a mere inch from her face.

A brief stinging sensation stabbed her in the chest, moments before her legs went numb and gave out on her. His claws came away, leaving the spikes behind.

'_A paralysis poison…' _she thought disconnectedly, as her vision blurred on his nastily grinning face and her body collapsed on the floor.

…

Akame stared at the documents. It was his first time seeing them, and there were more than he'd imagined. Of course they had a carrying cloth wrapped around them, designed for the ninja dogs, but the stack seemed ominously heavy for one such as him. Perhaps his mother or any of the older Iga could have carried it, but him? However, his mother's plea rang in his ears and he quickly grabbed the makeshift cloth handle, straining and bunching the muscles in his neck until he lifted the stack of documents – with difficulty, but he'd be able to move with them.

Upon rushing out into the main room again, however, he was met with the sight of his mother; crumpled in a shivering heap with the Kōga looming over her.

"Haha-ue!" he almost dropped the documents, but the look she sent him spoke volumes, and he froze like a statue – her red eyes were fiery and urgent.

The red warrior that had bested her ran his tongue over his lips cruelly.

"Stubborn thing," he rasped, "It's you who won't be living long enough to see your son escape with those documents."

The Kōga moved towards his discarded dagger, but seemed to think better of it; hesitating before looking Akame in the eyes and instead grabbing Yashikō's own spear.

He should have moved - gone to his mother's side and helped her, somehow. He would always regret just not moving. Maya may have said something, but it was muted by the rush of blood in Akame's ears as the red dog lifted the spear and drove it deeply into Yashikō's vulnerable throat, pushing it deeper until it rent her windpipe and emerged from the back of her neck with a sickening squelch, pushing her back a few feet, towards her frozen son.

Akame didn't blink, didn't drop his precious cargo even as her blood spattered from the forceful exit wound and painted his face as crimson as his eyes.

His mother gurgled before convulsing a few times and going silent as her body resigned itself to bleeding out. Even as she was dying she turned her red orbs to him, fierce and imploring, before fading to a lifeless dilution. Akame stared into the eyes that were so similar to his own. It was like watching himself die.

With a scream, the young Iga turned from the sight and fled, streaking away frantically as he felt the heavy footfalls behind him; heard the laughing and manic pants of his mother's murderer.

Rain and warfare assaulted his vision as he burst out of the doors and into the fray. His mind was shut off with adrenalin and he kept racing, heedless of his original intent in fleeing.

Maya was rapidly closing the distance.

…

Rikiseikō's head was pounding with the rush of blood as he made a frantic grab for what was left of his spear, raising it to fend off Yoō. His skin burned and bled all over, his muscles taut and unwilling to move as quickly as he wanted as he used what little leverage he could to knock the Kōga back from each lunge forward. The sickle cut into the splintered fragment of wood and missed the Kishû's face by a fraction each time. Energy draining with each parry, Rikiseikō winced and fought through the growing knotting and tremors of pain searing through his neck from the required strength to keep the sickle from coming any closer.

Pale and dark soldiers blended into the night like dancing light and shadows. The scent of blood was overwhelming. But suddenly through it, Rikiseikō's eyes caught a familiar white blur racing past him; small and carrying an instantly recognizable bundle.

The distraction caused the Kishû lord to maneuver with a clumsy wobble, however, as blood oozed sluggishly from the laceration on his neck and began to pool at his front paws. His vision went fuzzy for a brief moment before he used his honed instincts to brace and attempt another block. He gave a sharp whip of his neck and knocked the sharp end of the wood between Yoō's eyes, making the whites show at the corners of the Kōga's irises as he paused for only a second.

It was enough.

"Akame!" he roared. To his exhausted relief the little Kishû slowed his frantic pace and turned panicked eyes his way. There was sheer terror in them; his orbs a pure reflection of his mother. Something in his expression told Rikiseikō all he needed to know about Yashikō's condition, and it was a sharper pain than the one beating blood down his chest.

"Go! As far as you can, Akame!" The Iga commanded, just seconds before the sickle struck again – slashing through his side and carving flesh from bone.

The blade left behind an agonizing fire that spread across his ribs, giving him a moment to regain an electrocution of adrenalin throughout his body to keep him awake. The deep laceration in his throat pulsed numbly and he gulped down what little saliva he had, to coat the raw tear. Swallowing was becoming difficult.

Rikiseikō blinked the dots from his vision to see a Kōga gaining speed rapidly, and aimed straight for Akame with obvious intent in his steps. His son immediately snapped back into attention and ran faster again; a glowing manifestation in the sliver of moonlight. Without a moment's hesitation Rikiseikō removed his attention from Yoō and gave his last burst of energy to run towards the other enemy and - when close enough - barreled against him and plunged the spearhead down.

The Kōga gave a yowl of pain and surprise, the giant spade embedding into his paw and deep into the ground. Rikiseikō glanced to where Akame had been and saw nothing. The blood that was left in his ears burned with pride and alleviation. The red male thrashed and kicked, trying to pull his paw up. Rikiseikō knew Yoō would be right behind him, given time to attack, and braced himself.

The white dog flung himself around, the movement making him dizzy, and his vision saw only the shining sickle inches from his face. With a growl he charged it, grabbing the sickle blade within his teeth and holding tightly despite the sharp searing pain digging into his lips and tongue.

Limited by the blood loss and fatigue, the Iga chief felt muscle and tendon tear as he lifted Yoō's body and tossed him over his shoulder, into the Kōga pinned to the ground. He felt the crushing weight leave the sickle and quickly spat it out to grab at its handle.

Yoō kicked against Maya and scrambled back to his feet. There was a bleeding bruise between his eyes from the previous attack with the splintered spear end, and his bloodshot eyes were glaring hatefully, narrowing on the weapon the Iga held in his blood-marred mouth.

Rikiseikō felt an ominous cold tingling in all four paws and knew there wasn't much time left. Thinking was hard; moving was difficult. He blinked and focused his attention solely on his main enemy. Jaw quivering weakly like the sickle had gained thousands of pounds, he advanced.

Abused handle cracking in his grip, Rikiseikō moved just as Yoō tried to dodge, despite being hindered by the immobile Kōga behind him. The enemy lord was as debilitated as the Iga, his reflexes slow and clumsy, and it was no surprise when the blade embedded itself in his throat. It was not as deep as attempted, and got caught against flesh or tendon, causing the weakened Rikiseikō to lose his hold on the weapon when he tried to pull it back.

"My Lord!" the Kōga behind Yoō bellowed, teeth latching onto the spear and tugging furiously. Rikiseikō slipped on his own blood-soaked paw pads, granting the black dog the contingency to snap his jaws around his wounded throat like a bear trap.

The Iga lord was flung to the ground, the teeth digging into the gaping wound on his neck. Using his last amount of energy, the Kishû's fangs made their own beeline for the dark neck and returned the suffocating embrace. He wasn't strong enough to shake his head and tear further into the throat, but kept his grip, feeling skin pierce and blood trickle onto his tongue. He couldn't breathe as his throat shuddered before closing, and he felt Yoō's do the same, above him.

Maya had torn the spear out and held it, yelling something to either him or Yoō. Rikiseikō felt the grip loosen briefly, but his own remained as he half-hung from the rising male. The muscles in Yoō's neck spasmed and clenched; he was near suffocation, and Rikiseikō felt all of his power go into his jaws as he resigned himself not to let go. He saw the other Kōga in the corner of his vision, the spear in his hold, and knew what was to come.

None of it mattered when the spear came down. None of it mattered when everything went dark and became nothing.

Akame had the documents. And the enemy didn't.

That was all that mattered.

…

Akame stumbled in the wet grass when his neck muscles finally gave out, sending the documents splaying out ahead of him. They were protected by the linen, and he did not fetch them right away as he lay still against the pain in his abused neck and scraped, bruised knees for a moment.

As he moved to get up, his mother's eyes flashed through his mind, making his pupils contract and his breathing stop. His legs trembled ominously before suddenly giving out completely and sending him back into the ground, where he stayed. And what of his father? His pursuer was obviously gone, but his father had been wounded, so what had become of them both? His body tingled, and he knew on some detached level that he was going into shock.

Looking around at his surroundings, he realized with a further jolt where he was and why the rain no longer seemed to be touching him. His and Ikane's tree loomed over him, its protective branches sheltering him from all but a few stray droplets. There was a leak in the branches, causing a dribbling puddle beside him, and he lethargically moved to lap at it, knowing instinctively that he needed to get some water in him before his body shut down from the terror and exhaustive running. Small dewdrops gathered on his nose from the trickle, slowly bringing awareness back into his brain.

He used it to his advantage and willed the clarity to his feet before slowly rising. Akame knew there was a notch in the tree – an old owl's nest, and staggered towards the stack of papers. Gripping it tightly between his teeth again, the young dog prayed for his muscles to hold out just a bit longer as he leapt to the lowest branch.

So far so good.

He jumped to the next bough, then the next. Higher and higher until he reached the place he knew the hole was located, inspecting it carefully to make sure it was uninhabited for the night, before carefully lowering his cargo inside.

Descending to the ground again, the Kishû's legs immediately gave out when they slipped against the lush grass, but this time he did not get up. Curling up into a tight ball to ward off the chill in his soul, Yashikō's face ripped through his mind again, causing his small form to tremble.

'_Haha-ue… The documents are safe...' _were his final thoughts before he sunk into slumber like a stone.

…

As soon as Yoō collapsed, unconscious from the prolonged asphyxiation, both armies seemed to sense something was amiss, and a shudder went through them even before Maya gave his howl to retreat; strangled and thick through the pain in his heart and foot.

As much as it burned his very soul, the documents were long gone and neither he nor his Lord were fit to lead a party after them. Keeping Yoō or himself on the battlefield was practically begging an enraged enemy to dispatch them, and he had no desire to die for nothing. Closing his heart to the failure, Maya looked around to see his bloody and exhausted kin already gathered around him, wearing varying expressions of concern for their wounded leader. He closed his eyes against the shame of having failed each and every one of these dogs, but Yoō was the heart of their clan and he had to come first. Whether the Kōga lived or died was his decision, and his alone.

"Our Lord has been grievously injured! We pull back, to where our Ladyship and ōji-sama await us!"

Tails that had been tucked under bellies at the lack of leadership slowly went lax with the authority in their second-in-command's voice, until the red spectators finally registered the command and several of them sped off in the direction of their own territory. A few remained behind to carry their black lord and support his right-hand-man.

"Don't forget the leader's bodies!" Maya snarled at a few of them, "At the very least, we can offer those to our young master and his honored mother."

The cautious youngsters he'd spoken to only nodded before retrieving what he'd asked.

They did not look back, and no Iga followed them – too shocked and scared to move without leadership, and unable to decipher their broken commanders' bodies amidst the mess of blood and fur.

…

There were figures in the distance. The scouts had reported it to Gatakari, who in turn looked to Kurojaki with a stare that meant he would give the reaction.

He decided to go first with the obvious question.

"Could you see if they were our own or the enemy?"

"We couldn't get close enough without giving away our scent to them, ōji-sama," one scout responded. "But we know there are many of them. More than a score."

"There's no doubt they are heading here," the other one added.

Gatakari's face was hard and unreadable, as it always had been, but Kurojaki knew she was waiting for his reply. He trusted that if he said something foolish she would step in and correct it.

"We should not doubt it is Lord Yoō," he finally answered. "We will gather our remaining forces and ensure that each Kōga is equipped with their weapons. If it is the enemy we will not be caught off our guard. If it is our lord, we will greet him with confidence."

The scouts nodded and wordlessly left to carry out their substitute leader's orders. Gatakari glanced to her son and gave a minute flick of her ears. She was pleased with his answer.

Without a word spoken between them they headed towards the main route of the camp where Yoō and Maya had departed. There was a distinct smell in the air, carried by the anonymous army, but it was too rich with blood and stress to be identified.

Kurojaki stood with his sickle bared, standing in front of the drawing crowd of Kōga, Gatakari at his side with her own weapon presumably drawn.

Through the night's dark veil Kurojaki saw movement ahead. In reflex he bit harder into the sickle's handle, but kept silent. Until he or the others were certain, they would not go forward. No inch of Kōga land would be given to the enemy tonight.

But from what Kurojaki knew about Akame's clan, they were all of white coats, and the dogs approaching were as dark as the night. He saw the distinct features of Maya limping along with support at his flanks and instantly he gave out a bark of greeting.

"Our Lord has returned to us!" Gatakari cried triumphantly to the Kōga.

Amid the cheering Kurojaki could not see his father. Surely he couldn't be the dog being carried on another's back? Surely he couldn't be that red with blood and limp and pale around the nose?

_Chichi-ue! _Kurojaki kept his stance, raising his chin in honor to Maya as the deputy came to his side and bowed his weary head. Gatakari moved closer in impatient demand to know why their lord was in such a condition.

"Lord Yoō is safe," Maya panted with relief, giving Gatakari a look to say he would never lay such a claim if he were not sure of it. "He is unconscious, but well."

"And the documents?" Gatakari asked. She was anxious enough to give up her role of leaving Kurojaki in temporary charge.

Now Maya's gaze sank and a great pain shot through his features as if his wounds from the battle had come back twice as hard.

He looked ashamedly to Gatakari and to Kurojaki, finding the young dog's stare far less punishing.

"The documents were... taken by the Iga and carried out of the territory. The whereabouts unknown. Before our Lord or I could follow their leaders tried to distract us. We could not get past them quick enough to find the runaway's direction."

Kurojaki looked gingerly towards his mother, who seemed as unpredictable as a storm. Her eyes had intense energy behind them, but she gave no reply.

"However, My Ladyship and ōji-sama," Maya began with a fluid change of tone, "All was not lost. The conniving leaders were both dispatched by Our Lord and I, and we have brought their bodies back to our land to give unto you in celebration of our victory over the Iga."

Hearing this, the roar of jubilation rose again from the Kōga, and dragged over to Gatakari and Kurojaki were two reddened corpses, once white and clean. Kurojaki blinked at the shape they were in, seeing what little power was left in their forms. Knowing his father could have... could have ended up the same as them sent a bolt of pain through the young dog, as hot and horrid as if he had been whipped with fire.

He had done this to his father. He had sent him on a hunch and a selfish concern over a simple ally, an ally that turned out to be the son of the enemy clan. Kurojaki felt one streak of anger towards himself, and towards Akame, but it went away. He couldn't damn him when he knew Akame was nothing like them. That Akame, in some sense of the word that he had never wished to learn about, was his friend, and he knew protecting an ally was a priority for a leader, even if that ally may or may not be in your clan.

Perhaps Akame could join the Kōga now. Perhaps he could finally understand what a true clan offered in love and honor and respect.

But what if Akame had been hurt in the battle? Kurojaki hadn't followed fast enough to catch him and his negligence to the clan came first. Even if Akame died, Kurojaki felt no regret in returning to the camp to defend it with his mother.

"They lost many lives and many dreams this night," Maya shouted in reply to the Kōgas' cheering. "Without their leaders and without their victory obtained, it will not be long until we are in possession of the documents!"

More howls and cries of pure exuberance, seeping through Kurojaki's veins like vital essence. When he looked at the bodies of Akame's parents he felt joy, and victory, and a triumph that this was the start of a new beginning.

There was nothing that could strike him with fear now. Nothing to return him to anguish or anger.

"For Lady Gatakari and our young Lord Kurojaki," Maya continued, and gave a gesture to the corpses. "We offer you the hearts of the enemy."

Two males flashed with knives in their mouths and began to carve intricately into the flesh. Kurojaki didn't feel as sick as he thought he would as he waited to see the hearts. He had not eaten a heart before, at least not of another dog. His father and mother told him to always eat it with the flesh after hunting to gain whatever life and strength that body had owned.

To eat from a shinobi leader's heart was almost enough to send his head spinning.

"I will give my gift to my eldest," Gatakari proclaimed.

The crowd's hum went quieter in awe.

Kurojaki looked to his mother with wide eyes as she said, "He has warned us of the enemy and gave us the chance to surprise them before they could do the same to us. Without his bravery and dedication to the Kōga, this victory would not have been possible. We are that much closer to the retrieval of the documents because of Lord Kurojaki's bravery."

Kurojaki's heart swelled with pride, honor and love for his mother. Even though her face did not change, and never would change, he knew her gift to him was her way of saying she was proud, and he felt his eyes sting with a film of water and his ears flush with stupor. The Kōga sang out for him, howled for him, as the two hearts were presented in the gentle grip of the soldiers' mouths.

And Kurojaki instantly knew what to do with his gifts.

…

Akame's sleep was blessedly free from dreams. When he awoke, it took a moment for why he was outside to sink in, and when it did he closed his eyes again against the moisture that dampened them.

His mother was gone, and he didn't know the fate of his father – though the wounds he'd seen on him gave him his guesses. And how were Kirikaze, Jinnai, and the rest of the clan faring?

He needed to get back.

That single thought surged strength into his legs, making him rise.

'_The documents!'_ he remembered with a jolt, looking up to where he knew the owl's nest was.

He hoped they'd survived the night, with no animals making a nest out of them in the rain. His mother's last wishes came flooding back to him, and the drive to get them back to where they were safe increased. He bunched his muscles, preparing to leap.

Ikane almost called out to Akame – thrilled beyond belief to find him alive and seemingly well – before remembering himself and that what he carried was supposed to be a surprise. The white dog was turned away from him, giving him the perfect opportunity to stash his prize in the gnarled roots of their special tree. Then, making no effort to practice his ninja stealth, the Kōga trotted merrily up to his friend.

Akame looked ready to jump into the tree, but turned at the noise. Ikane was temporarily taken aback by the sunken-in look of his mahogany-colored eyes, and the hollow cheekbones, but the young male otherwise looked unharmed. A few cuts and bruises, but relatively unscathed. Even the blood that had caked on his face was obviously not his own. What worried him most was the split second of fear that flashed across Akame's face upon taking in the dark canine's features. In order to pacify him, Ikane smiled a rare smile and wagged his tail in excited greeting.

Akame knew – had known even during the raid, that Ikane was one of the enemy. The color of his fur and line of downy fuzz going down his head and neck made it hard to doubt, and it sent fear temporarily crashing through him as he remembered what his friend's kinsmen had done.

However, it faded. This was Ikane – he was different from them, and he could trust him.

Relief flooded the Kishû. It was silly to think his companion had anything to do with his clan's actions. Though weary, some of Akame's heartsickness faded in the wake of that smile, and his lips curved up into his own weak one.

"You didn't follow me, Akame," Ikane said with a shadow of anger or worry in his voice, despite his gently wagging tail. "I thought something bad had happened... I couldn't find you."

It now made sense why Ikane had been so insistent, and Akame looked away; somehow ashamed that he had forsaken his friend's efforts to protect him. However, he couldn't fully regret going back. After all, it had saved the documents from the others in Ikane's clan.

"I know..." his voice was soft, like he'd done something wrong. And he supposed he had, in a way. "But my clan..."

Ikane's ears twitched, but a look of understanding went over his features.

"You mean the pups that tried following you. They could have come with us if you were sure they weren't like the others in your clan, Akame."

Akame wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, or perhaps he just didn't want to think about it. Instead he said, "Kirikaze and Jinnai are safe. The manor was empty. But…"

Realizing his friend was getting upset again, and eager to cheer him up, the Kōga shifted a leg to scratch at his mane.

"Well, never mind that now, then," he chirped, his excitement unable to be contained at the prospect of having bettered his first friend's life, "You know what? I've decided. I know your real name, Akame, so you can call me by mine!"

Akame raised weathered eyes to Ikane's, and they lit up a bit again. Ikane did not like that lifeless gleam to them, and his tail couldn't help but move when he saw it fade.

"From today on, call me Kurojaki!" The little dog puffed out his chest, proud to no longer have to hide the fierce name his parents had given him.

"Kurojaki…" the red-eyed dog repeated slowly, and the other nodded, his paws tingling with jubilation when Akame's lips quirked a bit in similar happiness.

The pain of losing his parents was dulled to a heady numbness in Kurojaki's company, and Akame didn't want him to ever have to leave. He opened his mouth to say as much, but was cut off by the animated twinkle in Kurojaki's eye.

"And I have one more surprise for you," the dark pup spoke up, causing Akame's ears to flick in curiosity when the Kōga excitedly trotted over and out of sight behind the tree.

He made to follow, a good-natured look on his face, but stopped dead when Kurojaki emerged, his eyes widening, contracting his pupils in horror while his nose worked on overdrive to frantically confirm what his eyes were seeing.

Hanging from Kurojaki's jaws were two similarly sized dog hearts, both stained red with dried blood.

His nostrils flared, confirming that what he'd been smelling this whole time was not merely the blood still clinging to his own person.

'_Haha-ue… Chichi-ue…' _

He couldn't move – stayed rooted to the spot as Kurojaki tittered on about something he couldn't hear over the blood now rushing through his ears. He seemed completely unperturbed, as he approached to offer the muscles.

Laying them before his friend, Kurojaki either didn't notice or brushed off Akame's expression as something different.

"Now you'll be able to overcome your parents, and take their strength that oppressed you into yourself. You're free, Akame."

The young Kishû stared at the grotesque gifts for a few seconds more, before turning and running – the documents forgotten.

"Akame...?"

Kurojaki called after him in confusion and concern, but he paid him no mind, his eyes filling up with tears as his head and heart throbbed with the foreign burn of pure hatred.

"_Akame!"_

Anger. Shock. Disgust. Akame hated these feelings and hated that Kurojaki brought them to him. To bring him... _those_. How could he do it? _How could he do it?!_

Jinbatsu and Yukimori... they were killed by this same enemy clan? His only friends, his real friends who understood his pain with his parents but would never have done something so abominable. They were dead because of Kurojaki's clan, and now his parents were.

How could he have trusted that monster and let this happen?!

He let the hatred consume him – easing the shock and pain with its bitter poison, as he ran out of earshot of Kurojaki.

He was the leader of the Iga, now. And as leader, he would eradicate every last Kōga or he would die trying.

This he swore to himself, and to the clan he had betrayed by associating with one of the monsters that had taken everything precious in his life away from him.

They would _all _die!

…

A/N: I was originally going to end it here, but decided to make one more chapter.

Why did the Igas and Kōgas instantly stop when their leaders went down? They did in the anime and manga, so I assumed they don't have very good organization without a commander, and their will to fight drains. It's speculation, but it suited the needs of the fic.

(Lost in) Translation notes:

- Ōji-sama = Prince. I realized I put this in chapter 1 with no translation note. Whoops…


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